Posted: 08/09/2006

World Trade Center

(2006)

by Karen Petruska

Olive Stone’s World Trade Center is the Hollywood’s latest foray into the tragedy of September 11. While the theatre world has been exploring the trauma of 9/11 for years, beginning with the first production of Anne Nelson’s The Guys in December of 2001, the film world has been slow to follow (save for a film version of the aforementioned play). First to enter the cinematic ring was Paul Greengrass’s United 93, which opened earlier this summer and tracked the events of that morning in real time. Critics and audiences will necessarily compare United 93 to Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center, but the films are quite different.

One clear benefit for Stone is that United 93 bore the brunt of the criticism of those not yet ready to experience the verisimilitude of a cinematic national tragedy. Opening on August 10th in comparative peace, World Trade Center is not as shocking or as viscerally painful at United 93. But the film delivers a sincere and heartrending tribute to the men who died and those that fought for survival.

Stone opens his film by showing an ordinary day, following New York police officers as they travel to work. Nothing seems remarkable but for the date that appears on the screen. The power of our national memory resonates in these harmless white numbers, imbued with all the terror of that day. The eventual crash of the first plane into Tower One occurs with little flash or pomp: a police officer patrolling outside simply hears a strange thud from above. The simplicity of this moment lends the scene a haunting resonance: because the audience knows what the characters do not, each subsequent moment tortures with dreadful inevitability.

Stone’s film works best in these early moments. No director is likely to find a new way to present images so familiar to anyone who watched TV on September 11, 2001, inundated as we were with footage of papers flying to the ground, desperate people jumping from the buildings, and soot covering everything. Nevertheless, Stone makes the film personal by focusing upon two Port Authority police officers trapped under the rubble and their families. Through their story, Stone takes a deeply intimate and ultimately hopeful view of the destruction of that day.

As John McLaughlin, Nicolas Cage creates a stoic man, forced to face his own detachment as he confronts death. Cage is alternating terrifying in the power of his emotion (screaming as the second tower collapses) and distant in the isolation of his own mind. Though repeatedly identified as a hero during the ‘93 bombing of the WTC, McLaughlin is a tough man to care about as portrayed by Cage. Michael Pena’s rookie Will Jimeno sparks with life and conviction. He wears all his emotions on his sleeve, and despite being pinned under a stone slab, Pena infuses his character with impressive vitality.

World Trade Center presents many a dramatic moment—one might even say melodramatic, though that seems disrespectful somehow. Seeing how the men are buried alive provides the ultimate in horror, though Stone is merciful (or cowardly) during the initial collapse, cutting away to a black screen at the height of the characters’ terror. Yet once the buildings (all three of them) have collapsed, the tension dissipates. The men are unable to move and barely able to speak, but they continue talking to remain awake and alive. Touching as their struggle is, Stone resorts to flashbacks and dream sequences to infuse the otherwise static scenes with activity.

Stone provides variety by following the stories of other characters, including the two wives of the trapped men (portrayed by powerhouse actresses Maggie Gyllenhaal and Maria Bello). One of the movie’s most touching moments involves Maria Bello’s character and the mother of a son trapped in the building comforting each other during their long wait for any information about their men. The women are strangers and the dialogue is typical, yet their sensitive portrayal of the complexity of grief proves deeply moving.

I feel strange describing World Trade Center as a heartwarming film, but Stone certainly stuffs the film full of cheesy moments. Sometimes these moments work, as when a Marine discovers the two police officers in the rubble and promises that “they are his mission now.” Other times the cheese seems additive and easy, as when Bello remembers her husband showing her son how to be a carpenter. In general, when Stone trusts the inherent emotion of the event, he creates affecting moments. But when he resorts to unnecessary flourishes—overemotional music, tired dialogue, and clichéd devices—the events portrayed fail to penetrate the barrier of the film screen.

Having seen both United 93 and World Trade Center, I have struggled to understand why Americans choose to revisit the trauma of that day. Perhaps those of us removed from the immediacy of being in New York, D.C. or Pennsylvania on 9/11 can form a bond through the common experience of returning to the horror through the privileged access of personal stories. Perhaps we simply want to understand the psychic trauma suffered by those closest to the event so we can empathize and never forget.

America bears the scars of 9/11, hidden beneath the bravado of military action and patriotism. Fear remains part of our national consciousness: fear that some day soon another attack will succeed. Most of the world lives with this sort of fear every day, and some have argued that America simply joined the party late. But facing fear directly may help alleviate its more devastating effects.

With today’s announcement that British authorities have thwarted a terrorist attack targeting the United States, Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center resonates on an even deeper level, if that is possible. Five years later, the U.S. is still at war, and the battle of ideology continues in our nation’s skies. Stone celebrates the heroism of America and to a large extent avoids political commentary. Though a bit naïve, perhaps films like this one can help our nation come to terms with our moment of greatest weakness.

Karen Petruska is a film critic living in Chicago.

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