United 93
Director: Paul Greengrass
Grade: A

It’s difficult to find the right words to express one’s reaction to United 93. Before the film’s release I found myself slightly perturbed by what it represented. Far too often filmmakers seize upon a tragedy such as this and, under the pretence of honoring its memory, exploit it, turning it from a dire event into a platform for their own beliefs thereby selfishly abusing its memory. After viewing United 93, my reservations concerning the film have been assuaged and, to an extent, completely obliterated by the sheer emotional honesty of this film that works within its austere presentation more effectively than any other film I’ve seen.

United 93 is not the only example of the proper way to make such a film, but it certainly demonstrates intense veracity for its content. Only time will tell whether Oliver Stone’s forthcoming World Trade Center will prove to be a more onerous demonstration of this concept. For the time being, Paul Greengrass’s film does justice for the memories of those involved in the tragedies of that day.

Using a faux-documentary style, it examines the events leading up to the hijacking, using the commonplace elements of a normal day to create an ominous dread of things to come. It uses this prescience wisely, never obscuring the matter at hand for the sake of irony, but simply attempting to place a now mythologized event within a real world context; a setting from which it initially sprang forth. Indeed, the first moments of the film are filled with routine. We anticipate what will happen, but at the same time we place ourselves among those involved since, by opting not to elevate them on some epic or heroic pedestal, Greengrass suggests that their lives were no different than ours; that it could just as easily been us in their position and that heroism and bravery are not classifications reserved exclusively for those of exceptional standing, but they arise from ordinary persons propelled into extraordinary circumstances.

Yet, despite my personal response to the film, which by no means represents the majority, the question arises: would this film remain as emotional had it not been intrinsically linked to the tragic and still quite recent events surround September 11th? I’m inclined to say yes, since the film demonstrates such a considerable amount of skill that even without the aid of the inherent emotional weight attached to it, it remains still one of the most honest films about terrorism ever made. Why? Because it has been drained of all else. It contains no politics, no conspiracies, no infallible heroes, no monstrous villains (his portrayal of the hijackers is refreshingly sympathetic without overdoing it), and no overwrought speeches.

All this contributes to a film so entirely and unwaveringly focused on the moment that it restores vitality to a situation that has long since been enervated by political discourse. Whatever resulted from it is of no consequence, we as people are left to draw our own conclusions in the wake of these events, but when we entirely separate the tragedy from the political arena, we see it for what it really is: a demythologized event, one that has been obscured by a political agenda, used to justify a war and to repeatedly reaffirm to a skeptical public that such a war must continue. Now, Greengrass has returned it to its rightful place: as a demonstration of bravery in the face of adversity; not in favor of a war, not opposed to it, but penetrating beyond it all in hopes that nothing like this will ever occur again. I’m inclined to say this is the best film of the year.