The brainless arguments against writer-director Paul Greengrass' stunning new docudrama United 93,\ the first major Hollywood film to depict the events of Sept. 11, 2001, are reminiscent of an episode of ""South Park."" The episode dealt with Jared the Subway spokesman inadvertently making the town think he had AIDS, and once the problem was solved, Stan and Kyle discovered that the touchy issue was dated enough to be fair game for poking fun. Trey Parker and Matt Stone got a lot of mileage out of ridiculing the assumption that sensitive subjects cannot be tackled by art for an unwritten but requisite number of years. Some rigorously politically correct loudmouths, nearly all of whom have not actually seen the film, have assailed ""United 93"" for being an exploitative capitalist venture that is coming out way too soon. This cynical criticism is as ignorant as it is frustrating and laughable, as it not only presupposes that art is not capable of being relevant or essential, but implies that it should not be.
Sept. 11, 2001 was one of the worst days in American history. Nearly five years later, we have all moved on differently and formed our own perceptions of its aftermath—the freedom suppression of the PATRIOT Act, the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, controversy over the war in Iraq—conceptions that are still evolving. The story of United Flight 93, the hijacked plane that crashed before it could reach the Capitol, is one of the most enduring examples of heroism to come out of the tragedy. Despite the excessive jingoism that resulted, the passengers on Flight 93 showed that ordinary people are capable of courageous, extraordinary action.
""United 93"" is the most fitting and respectful tribute to the passengers anyone could have hoped for. Greengrass employs the same gritty, fast-paced approach to history he used in 2002's ""Bloody Sunday,"" his recreation of the brutal skirmish that took place in Northern Ireland in 1972. He refuses to shy away or romanticize any aspect of the story, as this is a purely authentic docudrama without attempts at profound irony or formulaic character arcs.
We eavesdrop on the kind of banal, almost mechanical conversations about golf and children that strangers and airline coworkers have. We observe the professional interplay between stewardesses and pilots. We know which of the passengers are uneasy terrorists and anxiously anticipate their inevitable takeover of the plane. Greengrass does not waste time establishing phony Hollywood character development or foreshadowing; the cast of unknowns effectively conveys realistic, everyday human interaction. It is not even clear who Todd Beamer is until he says, ""Let's roll,"" and even then, it is not uttered as a confident one-liner, but as a desperately hopeful call to arms.
In short, this is not ""The Delta Force,"" and Chuck Norris and Lee Marvin are not going to charge in with the cavalry and save the day. The terrorists are not turbaned, bearded A-rabs who love to hurt people, but rather tentative young men with misguided religious ideals and a terrifying determination to follow through with their awful plans. Air-traffic controllers, especially the officials of the Federal Aviation Administration, were woefully unprepared and lacked any plan for an efficient response. Greengrass' camera spends a lot of time roving around claustrophobic control rooms and offices, lingering on officials constrained by the chaos of the moment. Like a fly on the wall, we see their confused reactions to the various hijackings and their labored struggles in dealing with them. Again, Greengrass evokes staggering verisimilitude by casting many of the actual officials as themselves.
Every detail is right, and Greengrass skillfully lulls us into a state of staid normalcy that perfectly evokes the tedious anonymity of travel. The passengers were as unsuspecting and baffled by the attacks as the FAA and Air Force officials that day, and only came together after piecing together the truth from fragments of information. Although ""United 93"" is almost always tense and harrowing, it builds to an unbearable crescendo before the storming of the cabin and cockpit, and its closing moments are among the most powerful and affecting of any film ever made. It is as technically proficient as ""Bloody Sunday"" but all the more moving because the subject matter is collectively ingrained into us. One sequence in particular, which shows the passengers calling their loved ones to tearfully say goodbye, could have lapsed into cliché, but here is poignantly, overpoweringly devastating.
Whether or not you should see ""United 93"" entirely hinges on who you are. There are some who will claim this is required viewing for every American, but something this viscerally realistic and distressing is definitely not. It is an astonishingly tasteful but haunting time capsule that not everyone will be ready for or want to see. Does that mean it is too soon? Absolutely not. If this film came out in 2002 or 10 years from now, it would be just as emotionally resonant, and there will always be people who will never be ready for it. Greengrass has set a standard that few 9/11 films will be able to equal, let alone top. ""United 93"" is a bracing, important work of art, a laudably objective historical recreation stripped of Hollywood fakeness. It is the best film of the year so far.
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