Hola all. Massawyrm here.

You know, this is the type of film I dread reviewing. It’s one of those films that simply removes a whole slew of options from the writer’s arsenal. The material is just too hyper charged to go into the realm of comedy or satire and being based on real events you can’t simply review the content. We’re talking about a day of which only superlatives, hyperbole and cliché ever seem to come close to touching the truth of it.

And you’d think it would get easier. I mean, I’ve already written about this topic once this year with the release of the criminally under seen United 93. But it isn’t any easier. And you’d think it would be easier for Oliver Stone as well. United 93 already broke the established Taboo, it already generated all of the controversy. So everyone can look past all that and just see this as the film that it is, right? No. You can’t. In fact, Stone would have had better luck being the first of the two films out on the subject. Because now audiences have something to compare it to and, as it turns out, United 93 is the far superior of the two.

I remember sitting around knocking back a few beers with some buddies, sharing our fears about what United 93 might turn out to be. Overly manipulative. Jingoistic. Almost movie of the week in the sense of the story it chose to tell. But that’s not the film Paul Greengrass made. Instead, that’s the film Oliver Stone made.

I find it almost impossible to talk about one of these films without referencing the other. They’re such polar opposites in the way the stories are told. United 93 has an almost documentary feel to it. It’s gritty, raw, but most importantly, acknowledges that it doesn’t need to attempt to make you feel. Greengrass uses every last bit of emotion you hold about 9/11 – the wounds that won’t close, the shock you had upon first seeing those images, the fear that stuck in the pit of your gut all the following day – and he uses it to his advantage throughout the entire 90 minutes of the film. You walk out of that film in a daze, like you’ve been sucker punched. It’s like experiencing that morning all over again.

World Trade Center, on the other hand, is just the opposite. Night and Day. It’s the slick Hollywood version complete with big names, recognizable supporting cast, tremendous special effects and plenty of moments carefully tailored to try and squeeze the tears right out of you. While Stone manages to capture brief moments that take you back to that morning, he never sustains them for very long. Instead, he’d rather set up exactly the kind of moments you’d expect from a Hollywood film on the subject.

Now that’s not necessarily a bad thing. As an artist, Stone has every right to try and take the audience on a very specific emotional journey. But I’m not convinced that’s the type of journey an event like this warrants. Not now. No, this isn’t a too soon rant. Rather, to be frank, it’s a wholly unnecessary choice this close to 9/11. Everyone reading this, every last one of you, remembers every last detail of the moment you first heard. You remember who told you, what time it was, what you were eating at the time. Everything. And you remember the fear, the panic, every last phone call you made to loved ones to make sure they were somewhere safe. Each one of us has a whole trove of emotions permanently chained to that day. We don’t need to be needled to feel for anyone directly involved with the attacks. But that’s exactly what World Trade Center tries to do. It needles you.

The film is replete with flashbacks meant to add emotional resonance to later scenes. Then, when those scenes come, sure you begin to feel your ducts choking with tears – but it passes. Because it doesn’t feel real. You realize how you’re being manipulated. Of course you’re supposed to cry – a couple has just realized that they want to name their unborn baby the name their spouse picked…because they think they’ll never see one another again, and it’s their final expression of love for the other. Only someone made of wood could shrug off a line like “How do I tell my 4 year old daughter that her daddy is never coming home?” But as the emotion swells, you think Oh, now that was cheap.

The movie’s filled with moments like that.

And like I said, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But it will be for some. Like me. It was entirely unnecessary. The emotions I already carry with me were more than enough to give the gravity of this film the weight it needed. Simply showing us the events would have sufficed. There would have been tears.

But if the emotional overload weren’t enough, Stone seems to suffer from Pearl Harbor Syndrome – an affliction causing a director to try and tell too many stories at once. While the film focuses upon two Port Authority Police Officers – we’re introduced to a bevy of interesting side characters Stone simply doesn’t have the time to spend on. So they get boiled down to quick moments that involve their entire character stories wrapped into single lines of dialog. ”I’ve been in and out of rehab for years and I’ve found the one thing I’m good at is saving people.” That’s no exaggeration, that’s an actual line of dialog. And the meatiest thing that character gets to say. There’s about a good half dozen characters like this scattered throughout the film. And they just leave you wondering Why the hell even bother mentioning them?

But these aren’t simply the worst flaws in the film. They’re the only flaws. Emotional content aside, it’s a pretty well put together film. Everything else is pretty top notch. The acting is solid on all counts. But most impressive is Stone’s ability to capture the brutality of that morning without going overboard. The images he chooses are daring, but never over the top.

I’ve got a good friend who was an NYPD first responder that morning, and the stories he tells, the scene that he’s laid out…well, that’s exactly what Stone put to the screen. And yet Stone was smart enough to leave out the excessive gore. He’s clearly very reverent with this material. He gives you a small taste of the blood, but never so much that it’s tasteless. He puts you at Ground Zero, but never has to actually show you the planes hitting the building. This is a story about the people, not the planes. The terror, not the carnage. And that aspect works very well.

The first 20 to 30 minutes of this film are nearly perfect. While he sets everything up and takes us through that morning it’s absolutely riveting. Of course, those are the parts in which he doesn’t feel he needs to add on the emotion. It’s only after the towers fall that he begins to lay it on thick.

But not everyone’s going to feel this way about World Trade Center. For many audience members, the sappiness and manipulative nature of it will actually make this an easier film to swallow than United 93. The slick look, the Hollywood stars and the overriding theme of the triumph of the human will may prove to be a softer blow than the brutal assault that is Paul Greengrass’s film. When the credits began to roll on United 93, there was silence. Not a peep. Everyone made their way out of the theatre in quiet shock. But at the end of World Trade Center, the audience applauded. People had conversations. They were affected, but not so much as to change their entire day.

On the whole this is a good film, but not a great one. Come Oscar time next year, I honestly believe people will be talking Greengrass rather than Stone. It’s a perfect illustration of why sometimes the Hollywood approach just isn’t the right one. At least not for everyone. But if you’re curious, it’s worth a look. While manipulative and occasionally jingoistic, it’s never bad. Just not as great as it could, or should, be.

Until next time friends,

Massawyrm

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