Tag Archive for 'docudrama'

United 93


Like most of America, you probably haven’t seen United 93. You’ve avoided it out of an understandable reluctance to relive the emotional trauma of September, 11. If so, here’s my advice to you: Go see this movie. Now. Drag every friend and relative you can coax, cajole, wheedle, or sweet-talk along with you.

I can guarantee that you will not “enjoy” United 93, you will not find it entertaining or diverting or any of the things we’ve come to expect (or settle for) in our summer movies. I am equally confident that this film will move you more deeply and profoundly than anything you’ve seen in years, that you will be riveted by the experience in a way that makes other films seem petty and insignificant.

The only movie I can think of remotely comparable in its visceral effect is Schindler’s List and that film had the cushion of historical perspective; we knew going in that the holocaust was over, the monsters who perpetrated it utterly defeated and long dead. Not knowing how Al Qaeda’s war on modernity will unfold, we must watch this film without the comfortable certainty of a forgone conclusion.

The story of the passengers of United flight 93 ( “The Flight That Fought Back”) is already becoming legendary and it’s one of this film’s genuine achievements that while it is deeply respectful it is never reverential. It never devolves into the trite hagiography that would dehumanize the men and women it depicts. We don’t get a neatly packaged “back story” for any of the characters, but we do get the impression that their lives extend beyond the boundaries of the film. We overhear snippits of conversations and phone calls, but we never even catch the names of the people. It is exactly like our typical experience of fellow passengers on a plane trip. We are not surrounded by heroic characters or saints but by ordinary, flesh-and-blood people just like us.

In fact, the film is full of real people. FAA operations manager Ben Silney plays himself and the crew of the plane are portrayed by actual United pilots and stewardesses. This is just one of the techniques writer/director Paul Greengass (The Bourne Supremacy) employs to give the film a sense of urgent, objective reality. The film is shot in a loose, hand-held style and edited as if from available footage rather than meticulously composed shots.

The opening of the film could almost be a documentary about an airport. We see the mundane details of flight preparation, and without the context we bring with us, these montages would seem unremarkable, even dull. Greengrass never plays the scenes for suspense; he just presents them and lets us generate the tension. When, for instance, we see the plane being fueled up for its cross-continental journey, we know that those thousands of gallons of jet fuel are potentially a gruesomely effective weapon. The film never comments on this; it simply shows it and moves on, forcing us to make that connection.

This narrative strategy of elliptical storytelling, while common in top television shows (from The Sopranos to The Wire to Battlestar Galactica) is rarely used in movies, where we are usually spoon-fed the story. In United 93, we are constantly piecing information together for ourselves which automatically makes the film more engaging. Moreover, the people in the movie spend most of their time desperately trying to piece together the conflicting and confusing information they’re getting. We the audience are always a step ahead of them and this generates enormous tension while simultaneously making us re-live the confusion of that day.

You can expect to feel every emotion you had that day during the film. When they show the second plane crashing into the second tower, you will feel just as nauseous as you did five years ago. But what the film gives us that we couldn’t have that day is the catharsis of clear, deliberate action. At one point, the FAA director yells at an air force officer, “I don’t want more updates, I want action!” But there’s nothing anyone on the ground can do. So when the passengers realize that they are on a suicide mission and that they must take action, we feel grateful relief even though we know the tragic outcome.

Perhaps the film relies too heavily on the audience to provide its context. It may be that this film will have little or no emotional resonance for anyone who doesn’t already remember the events it depicts. I just don’t know. But however well or poorly the film ages, it is, right now, as powerful an experience as one can have in the cinema.

Again, I simply urge you to see it. And not for any political or sociological reasons. See it because it is a great and powerful film.

United 93 (2006)
Grade: A

Miracle


In 1980, the U.S. Olympic hockey team beat the Soviets and won the gold medal. I vaguely remember the big fuss about this at the time, but in 1980 The Empire Strikes Back, Superman II, and The Blue Lagoon (my second-ever R rated film!) each claimed a great deal more of my attention.

Miracle is a standard docudrama recounting the training and victory of that gold medal team. The film hits all the usual sports movie clichés hard and delivers just exactly what it promises. The most interesting part of the film is how the coach, Herb Brooks as played by Kurt Russell, plays head games with his team. He manipulates their responses with Machiavellian panache, which makes him a darker and more interesting character than the film ever seems willing to acknowledge. Russell brings his usual solid craftsmanship to the role and has some fine moments, but he can’t really do much with such an underwritten character.

The team members are anonymous, interchangeable guys played by anonymous, interchangeable actors. Half-hearted attempts to individualize them never amount to much. One is grieving the loss of his mother, one is upset with a team mate about . . . something, one refuses to take a psychological test (or is that the same guy with the dead mother?). Anyway, they all look and act so much alike that you begin to wonder if this is a movie about clones.

There’s a lot of hockey in this film, none of it filmed in a particularly interesting way. The final game against the Russians feels like an uncut rebroadcast of the original game. And the thrill of victory doesn’t hit home the way it should because we’re not given compelling reasons to care. The game is framed more politically than personally, an antidote to the nation’s Carter malaise rather than a personal victory for the coach or the team. We’re happy that they won, and that the game is finally over, but we don’t get a sense of why it matters personally.

Twenty six years later, I still can’t see what all the fuss is about.

Miracle (2004)
Grade: C+

Jarhead

Jarhead is a superbly well-made mediocre film. It’s a frustrating example of the whole being less than the sum of the parts.

The parts are all very fine indeed. The film looks spectacular. The skillful, disciplined cinematography, by Coen brothers favorite Roger Deakins, is impressively expressive without being showy (unlike, say, the shallow pyrotechnics of Three Kings). It’s the first major post-Saving Private Ryan war film not to feel totally beholden to that masterpiece’s visual style, largely — no doubt — because Jarhead avoids any big battle sequences.

The editing displays Walter Murch’s typically artful grace. Scenes and shots flow together with quiet precision. The rhythms of pacing are finely modulated in every mood and tone from exuberant energy to quite brooding, all with equal dexterity.

The performances are uniformly fine. Jake Gyllenhaal, as Desert Storm marine Swofford, is expressive and vital and raw (not to mention buffed up as hell). Peter Sarsgaard, quite possibly the finest actor of his generation, turns in yet another quietly brilliant performance (in yet another thankless supporting role) as Swofford’s best friend Troy. Jamie Foxx inhabits Staff Sgt. Sykes with the same commitment and verve he brought to Ray or Collateral.

If you watched any individual scene on its own, you’d be sure you were seeing a really good movie. There are lots of precisely observed details of marine life that are funny or scary or sad. And many of the scenes have a wonderful surrealistic edge to them: marines playing football in their gas masks, dueling scorpions as a spectator sport, burning oil wells scorching the sky. There are good moments a plenty, more than in most films.

So what went wrong? Well, there’s really no story here. We get a sequence of chronological events, most of them quite interesting, but nothing that happens to the characters ultimately matters very much. The movie tries to capture the frustration of not going to war, but it just winds up being frustrating for us. It’s finally a hollow film, all texture and no substance.

Director Sam Mendes seems desperate to make a powerful anti-war film, and he clearly realizes that the very excitement of battle on screen can turn even the most rigorously anti-war polemic into an exciting experience of war. There’s an early scene where the marines watch Apocalypse Now, cheering the action on as if it were a Rambo movie. To forestall this reaction, Mendes just avoids any direct depiction of war. The soldiers never get the chance to fight and so we never get the chance to cheer them on. As a story-telling strategy this is clearly self-defeating because showing people not fighting conveys no message whatsoever about the virtues or vices of warfare.

Of course Mendes is simply adapting the memoir of the real-life Gulf War veteran Tony Swofford. But that’s no excuse for making a pointless film.

Jarhead (2005)
Grade: C+