GuitarPLYR
04-28-2006, 09:31 AM
April 27, 2006
By CHRIS VOGNAR / The Dallas Morning News
Universal Pictures
Daniel Sauli as Richard Guadagno, David Alan Basche as Todd Beamer and Denny Dillon as Colleen Fraser in Universal Pictures' United 93.
You feel United 93 as a knot in your stomach, a symptom of coming face to face with a dread that seems not old, not new, but somehow out of time. The emotions and memories come creeping back, building slowly, in pieces, toward the inevitable outcome.The stakes are high for United 93, which tracks the hijacked plane that crashed in Shanksville, Pa., and is the first theatrical release to deal with 9/11. Even if you argue that it's too soon or that there's no way to know what really happened up there, it's hard to deny that United 93 honors victims by disposing of all formula, all stars, all hokum, all fakery.
More a catharsis than an escape, the film puts you on the ground floor of a nightmare and then refuses to flinch. It's a film about the heroes onboard and the people hard at work on the ground, trying to manage an unfathomable crisis and standing by, helplessly, as systems crumble.
It looks like just another day at Newark International Airport. Crewmembers make job small talk as they approach the gate; the passengers, looking and sounding like the anonymous folks you see every time you take a trip, make phone calls and pass the time before takeoff.
Air traffic controllers and NORAD officials go about their business, planning the day's duties. FAA operations manager Ben Sliney, who plays himself, mingles with his troops in convivial fashion, discussing departure delays and other routine matters.
The terrorists, whom we have seen praying and preparing, board the plane and take their seats, looking quietly panicked.
These early moments are innocuous, but the tone of documentary-like realism has been set, and you can only steel yourself for what's to follow. It's hard to imagine that another film will come this close to placing you in the belly of the beast.
If you don't want to go there, it's more than understandable. If you do, you'll see a lean, meticulously researched film that conjures a sort of hyper-reality. We see what the passengers have to eat, and we hear the pilots discuss their schedules, kids and vacation plans. We get to know the victims as we would in real life, through snippets of conversation, small details and, finally, the urgency and courage that come when you feel your life is soon to end.
About an hour in, when the hijackers make their move in a sudden spasm of frantic violence, the tension is already just about unbearable. Forget the disposable gore fests that come and go from the theaters every week; this is a real horror movie.
Shot with the unmistakable energy and intimacy that only a handheld camera can create – and layered with a muted, percussive score – United 93 darts back and forth between the air and ground. Air traffic control workers scramble to keep up with a rapidly unfolding morning of hell. Reports of multiple hijackings filter through, gradually becoming official, testing the response teams, which, like all of us, had never seen anything like this.
United 93 is an exhausting but commanding work of art. It was made with help and blessings from the military, air traffic controllers (many of whom appear, some as themselves) and victims' family members, who provided details that let you connect to those onboard. But this is no rubber-stamp production. Culling from The 9/11 Commission Report , United 93 carries a sense of what could have been prevented, the missed opportunities and crossed wires that led not to one tragedy but a long, history-altering morning of disasters.
This is a movie that will never please everyone; few great films do. Conspiracy theorists will grasp at straws, while others will cry exploitation. But for those up to the challenge, United 93 may actually prove therapeutic. In bringing you face to face with the unimaginable, and spotlighting those who took matters into their own hands, United 93 creates something resembling emotional closure. It may not be fun, but it feels, somehow, necessary.
By CHRIS VOGNAR / The Dallas Morning News
Universal Pictures
Daniel Sauli as Richard Guadagno, David Alan Basche as Todd Beamer and Denny Dillon as Colleen Fraser in Universal Pictures' United 93.
You feel United 93 as a knot in your stomach, a symptom of coming face to face with a dread that seems not old, not new, but somehow out of time. The emotions and memories come creeping back, building slowly, in pieces, toward the inevitable outcome.The stakes are high for United 93, which tracks the hijacked plane that crashed in Shanksville, Pa., and is the first theatrical release to deal with 9/11. Even if you argue that it's too soon or that there's no way to know what really happened up there, it's hard to deny that United 93 honors victims by disposing of all formula, all stars, all hokum, all fakery.
More a catharsis than an escape, the film puts you on the ground floor of a nightmare and then refuses to flinch. It's a film about the heroes onboard and the people hard at work on the ground, trying to manage an unfathomable crisis and standing by, helplessly, as systems crumble.
It looks like just another day at Newark International Airport. Crewmembers make job small talk as they approach the gate; the passengers, looking and sounding like the anonymous folks you see every time you take a trip, make phone calls and pass the time before takeoff.
Air traffic controllers and NORAD officials go about their business, planning the day's duties. FAA operations manager Ben Sliney, who plays himself, mingles with his troops in convivial fashion, discussing departure delays and other routine matters.
The terrorists, whom we have seen praying and preparing, board the plane and take their seats, looking quietly panicked.
These early moments are innocuous, but the tone of documentary-like realism has been set, and you can only steel yourself for what's to follow. It's hard to imagine that another film will come this close to placing you in the belly of the beast.
If you don't want to go there, it's more than understandable. If you do, you'll see a lean, meticulously researched film that conjures a sort of hyper-reality. We see what the passengers have to eat, and we hear the pilots discuss their schedules, kids and vacation plans. We get to know the victims as we would in real life, through snippets of conversation, small details and, finally, the urgency and courage that come when you feel your life is soon to end.
About an hour in, when the hijackers make their move in a sudden spasm of frantic violence, the tension is already just about unbearable. Forget the disposable gore fests that come and go from the theaters every week; this is a real horror movie.
Shot with the unmistakable energy and intimacy that only a handheld camera can create – and layered with a muted, percussive score – United 93 darts back and forth between the air and ground. Air traffic control workers scramble to keep up with a rapidly unfolding morning of hell. Reports of multiple hijackings filter through, gradually becoming official, testing the response teams, which, like all of us, had never seen anything like this.
United 93 is an exhausting but commanding work of art. It was made with help and blessings from the military, air traffic controllers (many of whom appear, some as themselves) and victims' family members, who provided details that let you connect to those onboard. But this is no rubber-stamp production. Culling from The 9/11 Commission Report , United 93 carries a sense of what could have been prevented, the missed opportunities and crossed wires that led not to one tragedy but a long, history-altering morning of disasters.
This is a movie that will never please everyone; few great films do. Conspiracy theorists will grasp at straws, while others will cry exploitation. But for those up to the challenge, United 93 may actually prove therapeutic. In bringing you face to face with the unimaginable, and spotlighting those who took matters into their own hands, United 93 creates something resembling emotional closure. It may not be fun, but it feels, somehow, necessary.