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While no one could argue with any of those reasons for avoiding the film, I’m bothered by the way that the squeamishness of today’s moviegoers, even when it comes to reliving a national nightmare, dovetails all too neatly with the way that our media culture is now practically in the business of burying bad news. All that talk of ”lowered expectations” may have been an accurate barometer of United 93‘s ultimate fortunes, but it had the effect of marginalizing the movie before it was even released — making it sound like something that no ”normal” American would ever want to see. In a sense, many of us in the media became enablers, telling our viewers and readers, in essence, ”It’s okay. Movies aren’t supposed to be this painful.”

But aren’t they? I pesonally found the experience of United 93 to be scary, inspiring, and cathartic. I felt closer, in a way that gave me a shudder, to what happened that day; I felt a little more connection to the brave people on that plane, much as I have when I’ve read, in the newspaper, those agonizing transcripts of their final moments. We don’t expect serious journalists to soft-pedal the news. So why do we say that a movie that dares to present itself as an incendiary act of dramatized journalism has touched the forbidden third rail? Why do we insist that it’s too real, too raw, too painful, too soon? I say: It’s not what’s up on screen that we should turn away from. It’s our fear of seeing it.