the most uncinematic disaster movie

Two nights ago, I watched World Trade Center (2006). Haven't written about it in my film journal yet, but I feel the need to elaborate here on how awful a movie it is.

I guess the way I want to approach this is to take its director Oliver Stone as a guide. Stone, as we all know, loves to court controversy. Even his Alexander (2004) was controversial. In any case, I think this flag-waving waste of celluloid is his least controversial film. In fact, it's not controversial at all. For this reason, maybe I should see United 93 (2006) to compare. While the films are not about the same thing, they deal with well-connected instances. But I digress.

What I am trying to say is that I couldn't believe Stone made this. And please don't take this to mean that I am a fan of his films. I'm indifferent to them; take them or leave them, I say. It's just kind of hard not to see that the (albeit light) cynicism exhibited in Platoon (1986) has been completely erased and replaced with hokey sentimentalism parading around as a "true story of courage and survival."

It has been suggested that it is too early to make films about 11 September 2001. There's not enough hindsight. There are so many perspectives out there (then and now) that any filmic treatment of that day's events really should be more sophisticated than a good vs. evil narrative. Oh, this movie avoided that. Instead, it just opted to tell a nationalistic and triumphalist narrative. Never too early (or too late) for ones of those, eh?

At the core, I had a problem. World Trade Center is based on the true-life accounts of Port Authority police officers John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, two of the five cops from that station who went into the complex after the second plane hit the other tower. When the buildings collapse, all five get trapped under concrete and other heavy and sharp material. But only McLoughlin and Jimeno make it out alive. Just barely. In any case, they had not begun to save any lives when the towers crashed and buried them. And all of this happens within the first half hour.

I do not mean to make light of the situation, but I do not exactly consider McLoughlin and Jimeno heroes. Instead, they are metaphors for the country. (Oh, I guess the filmmakers did use hindsight!) They don't really know what is going on and why it has happened. They don't know if they'll make it (read: recover). In fact, McLoughlin, played by a heavily-accented mustache and a receding hairline called Nicolas Cage, very nearly dies just as he is being rescued. What gets him through it? His wife, who appears to him and says he has to survive because he hasn't finished refurbishing her kitchen. (Life must go on.) There were some lines, which I now forget, that really serve as proof of this theory that they are stand-ins for all Americans. The use of a lot of archive footage includes clips of then-NYC mayor Rudy Giuliani trying to bolster some patriotic spirit, too.

Another problem I had was with the subplot of an ex-marine from rural Pennsylvania or something. He watches the events unfold with his coworkers in the office. He is so angered that he storms off, saying something to the effect of: "They don't know it yet, but a war has just begun." Such an intensely delivered over-the-top statement only makes more sense once we viewers learn that he is a former marine. I cannot remember now, but I think this tidbit about him is revealed when he goes to church (the place he stormed off to). From there, he drives down to NYC and lends a helping--and creepy--hand. See what I mean? There are others who also contribute during the crisis. I do not mean to say it isn't wonderful that people came and helped, but please. The cheese is so hard to cut it's so thick.

In fact, the scene with the marine going to the church was the only scene that overtly reminded me of anything by Stone. Yes, he's dealt with recent American history before, but here he brought in religion. And religion played a large role in Platoon. The battle over Chris Taylor's soul. Elias's Jesus-like pose just before he dies. I point this out because before this scene, there was no religion talk or iconography. As I can recall from this time in my life, the discussion about religion only became more heated once fundamentalism was brought up, as it related to the identity of the perpetrators.

Other than these issues, the other major problem I had was that it was almost completely uncinematic. I admit that, not knowing about McLoughlin or Jimeno before seeing the film, I did not know who would make it. I didn't think both would. So in this way, it was a bit of a suspense. But it was boring, and watching their families react was just like watching any other melodrama. Other than the few moments when the filmmakers actually acknowledge that there are more than just two families in distress, the film never really seems monumental. And certainly not as monumental as that day was for those of us who remember it. It was just like any other disaster movie, but with bright red, white, and blue in the background.

As this is the narrative (and some would say, myth) that most Americans have accepted about 9/11--of all Americans banding together to survive and triumph against anyone who tried to destroy the American way of life--how could anyone call it controversial? It is totally mainstream, and the most mainstream movie Stone has ever made.

I ask myself: why did he make this? Hasn't hindsight convinced him even a little bit that there are connections between the Vietnam War and the American-led "War on Terror"? I mean, the triumphalism was missing with Vietnam and definitely from his three movies centered round it. Other than these guys fortunately surviving the attack, what is triumphal about 9/11?