11 settembre 2001

I couldn't help but watch this film from the perspective as an objective alien viewing a 2-hour feature about Earthlings. To judge this film by its individual merits or failures is like trying to understand the people of this planet by isolating them geographically and culturally. When I see how little so many reviewers here at IMDb don't get that, it is no small wonder to me why we as a species can't get along.

Each eleven-minute film here offers us a hint of what we are as a species. We see how children thousands of miles away have no greater concept of American culture than American children (as well as adults) have of theirs. That's a dangerous thing, especially when it is evident that the reflexive acquiescence of God's will is summoned so easily in order to explain ignorance away. The events of 9.11 scale down personal tragedies, such as deafness and failed relationships, while giving legitimate perspective of true human suffering, such as those who have been caught in the cycle of violence in Bosnia and Chile. Personal bitterness, such as a soft-news TV journalist being beaten out of a hard-news story, clashes with poverty-stricken children who shrug off an opportunity for overwhelming fortune and immeasurable fame when they realize that they can at least secure the cost of education and medicine for the near future. What happens when one tries to keep score of human suffering? The futility of that question is answered profoundly in a segment revolving around an American soldier and Palestinian terrorist - or an American terrorist and Palestinian soldier, or two soldiers or two terrorists, all depending on which flag you happen to be waving. It all sums up to countless numbers of ghosts and grieving mothers. And the cacophony of all that gets summed up in a segment featuring voices of every human emotion on 9.11, along with visions that defy any conventional understanding of terror. It isn't the numbers that stagger us, but one lonesome figure flinging himself into certain death. The question is: if we can relate so strongly to that figure, why is it so difficult for us to relate to the dying mother in Burkina Faso, or the torture victim from Chile, or the leg-less man in Bosnia, or the Muslim-American woman whose son is condemned as guilty until proven innocent, or the lonely old man who we usually tend to look away from on the street? Why are so few Americans only able to see the terrorist attacks on 9.11 as an American tragedy and not as an extension of human tragedy that is continuously being recycled? Until people of all nations can share in each other's suffering, we will always be doomed.

The film '9.11' is capped off with a segment which one can accept as an allegory that man's need for righteous indignation and violence is as much a part of his nature as killing is for a snake. The snake gets the last word in though, that there is no such thing as a holy war. Snake smarter than man, eh? I can't say that any of these individual films were great. Some, like that last segment was too clever for its own good, and some made me wish that the filmmaker made better use of his or her eleven minutes. But taken in whole, it is an astoundingly effective experience. I've always wished that a project covering short films from all over the world could be shot in one day- illustrating us in all of our similarities and differences. Using 9.11 as a starting off point is ingenious, since our personal and political tragedies are what brings us together when we're at our best, and what keeps us apart when we are at our worst. To fault this film for any artistic shortcomings is fair ground, but to fault it for its personal and political leanings is to add insult to injury. This film is a wake-up call to see the pain that is all around us and to respond with something other than finger-pointing and jingoistic pride. It's shown us the past and the present and given us the opportunity to reflect on a more promising future, if we so chose.

Put simply, I think this film is a masterpiece. To call it anti-American is quite arrogant and uneducated, as I feel it is, above all, extra-American, meaning it portrays an entire global community and the effect a single event in the world can have. As Americans, we are understandably still heartbroken over the tragedy and may never fully recover, but if we're smart then we need to see that an entire non-American culture exists outside our little bowl and can't be expected to react, sympathize, and contribute in the same way or in ways we'd like. If a family down the street from you loses a loved one, naturally you're going to feel bad for them, but if you never knew them you're not going to be grief stricken, and no one would expect you too. Furthermore, if you had prior resentment against that family, it would still surface and mar your ability to sympathize. Does that mean you're a bad person? Of course not. But it illustrates the relativity of the impact a tragic event can have on everyone.

For one, I thought this was best illustrated in the segments from Iran, England, Bosnia, and Burkina-Faso.

In Iran, we're introduced to children who are (summed up in the first minute of film) refugees from their home country, building brick buildings to survive potential bombings, and living in dirt. And yet they all giggle and laugh and go on as naive children. And, in all honesty, why should they be effected by September 11? Bosnia's short portrays a culture that has been under a state of perpetual grief for as long as they can remember, and they still march in defiant protest and solemn anger over the death of their loved ones. Sure, news of 9-11 effects them, but in a land this morose and unhappy it's as if they have no more grief to give. Burkina-Faso's, while funny, illustrated a good point: The children don't hunt down who they think is Bin Laden because they are angry and vengeful, they do it for the money. They are, beneath it all, capitalists, the difference being they wanted money for good cause, unlike our government who disgustingly capitalized on 9-11 for the patriotism agenda.

And, perhaps Loach's London segment was the most effective in that it was a tearful way of saying "I feel your pain...maybe you could feel ours..?" How many people (especially in my generation) really know about the horrific history of Chile, and moreso, that our government was behind it? Nowhere do I see Ken Loach saying "shame on you America!!!" (as many have interpreted), but rather I see a wounded survivor in a heartfelt request for the same empathy he has for us on September 11. I'm sure the murder of Allende means a lot more to Chileans than the WTC bombings ever will, just as WTC will always mean more to us than the murder of Allende..

I admired the Mexican segment as an auditory experience but (CURSES!) the projector broke down and the sound got out of sync, thus completely marring the effect. Egypt's segment was kind of lame in it's technique but brought up an EXTREMELY good point: We always label civilians innocent, and in many respects we are, but to a terrorist, since the U.S. and Israel are democracies, we (supposedly) elect the leaders who commit atrocities against their people. Therefore, we are not innocent. A warped perspective, yes, but a valuable insight into the mind of the enemy.

Emotionally I thought the French segment was the most brilliant, as it characterized the attitude of this whole film. Focusing on the woman's deafness we are put in her head and experience, for a brief moment, what it's like to be deaf, the same as we might experience what it's like to be foreign or non English speaking. And as an audio-visual experience it was unforgettable. Only when her boyfriend comes home does the effect of the tragedy really strike her, and it reminded me that we take our senses for granted. I would love to see an entire movie from a deaf perspective.

The two low points in this film were the American and Japanese. I admired Sean Penn's story but hated his technique. Split screens and repeat-frames are tastelessly self indulgent (key word here is indulgent) and the Japanese short, while clever and striking, felt rather out of place here. I get the "Holy War" statement but it's better suited for another film and another argument. The Indian segment, while also a touching story, was sadly unimaginative and more matter-of-fact. Israel's short, as a one-shot, was creative, but the characters were annoying and laughably exaggerated.

What this film allows is for us all to levitate above the planet and gaze down on an entire global culture and how a single event effects it. I'm sorry if Americans are offended and see this as "anti-American propaganda" but that speaks of just plain not getting it. Every nation and every culture is as guilty as we are innocent. But to believe our tragedies are superior and carry more weight sentimentally is wrong and the gross effect of isolation and nationalism. We confine ourselves inside nations and borders and collective mentalities and forget that beneath (or perhaps above) all the ideology, we're all human beings and deserve to be treated as such.

A marvelous, unforgettable film.

The September 11 film is a separate but collective effort by 11 filmmakers who were given $400.000 each to make a film 11 minutes, 9 seconds and 1 frame. The formula is not new, neither are eternal flames as grave markers.

Each director was given creative license to make their film. The result is 11 viewpoints on a host of angles regarding to the suicide aircraft attack on the World Trade Center. The facts of atrocities committed in war should come as no surprise to anyone from any country. Americans are as aware of the damage of war as other nations. War is not good for anyone. When men play war with guns people are killed, innocently. The most interesting inclusion is the Israeli journalist trying to report on a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv. Her story gets bumped because of what's happening in New York. The story is absurd showing how powerful war and media is, and how far from peace the world is. Showing the film reveals how clever the media is in pitting nation against nation and cultivating a fake sense of patriotism. An aftermath of the film could be, don't buy into hating your brother and sister and show some compassion for all people for all injustice everywhere.

It was clear right from the beginning that 9/11 would inspire about as many films as World War II and Vietnam combined; however, there is certainly a big danger that most of these films to come are about as good (or rather: bad) as Pearl Harbor. It is a great luck that the first international release about 9/11 is not a cheesy love story starring a bunch of pretty faces, but a collective work of 11 directors from the entire world.

I'm not intending to say that all 11 episodes are great (Youssef Chahine's, for example, has a needless prologue with too many cuts and Shohei Imamura's has a really bizarre ending) or that the segments are in the right order (Imamura's, being the only one not referring directly to the Twin Towers, should open the film, not end it, Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu's should be the last one instead, as it's the most impressive one). But it is an impressing effort and an interesting portrayal of the way other parts of the world react to the collapse of the twin towers.

Consider Samira Makhmalbaf's opening segment, in which an Afghan teachers tries to explain to her pupils what happened in New York and unsuccessfully suggests a one-minute silence. Or Idrissa Ouedraogo's part (which features a bin Laden-double so much resembling the real one that you'll be shocked when you see him, I promise), in which 5 boys muse about good things that can be done with the reward put out on Laden.

There's a surprisingly good (and extremely angry) segment by Ken Loach about a man from Chile talking about what he calls "our Tuesday September 11" - that September 11 in 1973 when their elected president Allende was killed and Pinochet installed his dictatorship - with the generous help from Henry Kissinger and the CIA. This could have become a terrible effort in Anti-Americanism, but it did become a sad tale and shares my recognition for the best segment with Inarritu's (mainly sound impressions and phone calls from the hijacked planes to a black screen, sometimes a few pictures of people falling down the WTC and finally a collapsing tower, ending with the screen brightening up and one question appearing) and Amos Gitai's about a hysterical reporter trying desperatly to get on air after a car bomb exploded in Tel Aviv (hard to recognize, but this one is a masterpiece of choreography).

All these different segments (I haven't mentioned yet Claude Lelouch's about a deaf girl, Danis Tanovic's about a demonstration of the Women of Srebrenica, Mira Nair's - strange, but it takes an Indian director to make the part that is probably most appealing to Western tastes - about a Muslim family whose son is under a terrible suspicion after 9/11 and Sean Penn's with Ernest Borgnine (yes, Ernest Borgnine) as a widower leading the most depressive life one can imagine) add up to a unique film not easy to watch and hard to forget. I am sure this film will be a classic known to everyone thirty years from now. I hope it will be remembered for starting a long tradition of world cinema movies. But, alas, it's far more probable it will be remembered as a one-film-only effort. And as the one of the few 9/11 movies made by then that don't reduce this terrible event to a love story with a happy end just to please the audience.

It is easy to assume that a film about September 11th would be a collage of horror-packed footage from the tragedy itself. Fortunately, this was not the case. September 11th is about one thing and many things. Eleven directors from eleven different cultures offer eleven minutes, nine seconds and one frame each of their purportedly related versions that are directly and sometimes remotely connected to the tragic events of September 11, 2001 at the World Trade Center. The range of emotions generated by the film varies from outrage to sorrow, from poignancy to delight, and from patriotic pride to shame to be an American. Some of the efforts were laudatory, some were so-so and some, a total waste of time. What makes this film great is that is representative of everything experienced and offered to us in life-the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I will indulge each segment with a brief commentary providing a flavor of the entire symphony in the order of appearance.

Scene 1. The first vignette is from director-screenwriter Samira Makhmalbaf originally from Iran of "Blackboards" fame. The setting is in an impoverished Afghan refugee camp in Iran where a Moslem woman teacher encourages little children to express their reactions to 9/11. At first, the little waifs are hard at work making bricks from mud that they trample with their bare feet. The teacher is screaming at the children to abandon the brick making and come to school. At the school, she quizzes them as to what important event that happened that day. Innocently, they chirp their responses ranging from men dying in a well, to various other minor casualties. Their naïveté is charming and delightful, allowing us to see the world through their innocent eyes. After a barrage of queries, the teacher's shrill monotone becomes somewhat grating. Ultimately, she reveals to the children the tragedy of 911 in New York and asks for a minute of silence. The twittering children do not heed her request, so she orders them outside to demonstrate what a tall building is by comparing their kiln's giant chimney to the World Trade Center. Their expressive eyes say it all. She asks again for their silence and this time they obey. Numerous intimate close-ups of the children and their sweet replies are well worth the price of admission.

Scene 2. Claude Lelouch, the celebrated director who made "A Man and a Woman" in France three decades ago, drops us into the silent world of the deaf as they struggle with a relationship seemingly headed for its final curtain somewhere in New York City. In French, with sub-titles for their hand signing, the mood is eerily stunning in its silent presentation. The male lead somberly heads out to work to his eventual destination at the World Trade Center. The female left behind struggles with her mystical prophesies as she types farewells to her paramour. She types a desire for a miracle to rescue their tormented relationship. As she continues typing, she is unaware of the drama unfolding at the twin towers on the muted television in the next room. The scene conjures up a foreboding of her lover's death taking place at the Twin Towers. The final resolution is eerie and surprising, expounding on life's meaning and its tortured passage to ultimate destinies.

Scene 3. Award-winning Egyptian director Youssef Chahine spins a tale of the fantasies that begin to haunt a filmmaker shooting scenes in New York as he becomes aware of the drama unfolding at the Trade Center. Obsessing about the magnitude of the tragedy at a river's edge, he encounters the ghost of a dead US Marine who was killed at the bombing of the Marine Barracks in Beirut some years ago. They dialogue about the horror of the needless deaths of young marines and other parades of the "horribles" that have taken place in the past and present. He is also confronted with visions of a Palestinian suicide bomber going off to his death in Israel and his frantic mother running after him with the meal she just prepared. The torment and conflict this film generates seems to indict the actions of the terrorists as well as the country of the victims. Seemingly anti-American, it could also be interpreted as anti-violence in any form.

Scene 4. Bosnian director, Danis Tanovic depicts the stand taken by a young woman in the town of Srebrnica, where on the 11th of every month, the local women demonstrate in the streets against the horrors of war. The young woman, on her way to demonstrate, comes to the meeting hall in town where she and the other would-be demonstrators are awed by the specter of the Trade Center tragedy unfolding on the radio. In spite of the distress the radio voice is generating, she beckons her friends to get on with the business of their monthly mission. The other women beg off because of the magnitude of 9/11, yet she faithfully decides to demonstrate on her own as she heads for the town square. Finally, all the other women join her in solidarity with their banners fluttering in the breeze to make their statement in commemoration of their own local tragedy. The message however, is obscured in maudlin meandering and meaningless gestures.

Scene 5. A wholly different flavor is presented by director Idrissa Quedrago from Burkina Faso, a tiny country in West Africa, north of Ghana, about the size of Colorado. This scene captures the struggle and hope of four young boys in a pitifully poor country, as they band together in a plot to become rich. The tale begins with one of the young boys hearing on the radio about the Trade Center tragedy and seeing a picture of Osama Bin Laden offering millions of US dollars for his capture. He later comes upon a bearded figure in robes that is a remarkable likeness to Bin Laden. He quickly enlists the aid of his comrades, one of who appropriates a video camera so that they can shoot pictures of Bin Laden and claim the reward. The boys are jubilant and busily fantasizing about how they are going to spend their riches as they stalk and film the would-be Bin Laden. When they see Bin Laden hop into a cab and head to the airport, they frantically pursue him on foot to the crowded entrance of the airport. They anxiously try to enlist the local policeman to capture Bin Laden, however he dismisses their antics as nonsense and hurls their precious videotape into the crowd. Their forlorn faces sequester tears as the plane takes off for points unknown and their would-be treasure is lost forever.

Scene 6. British film and TV director, Ken Loach explores the horrors of the overthrow of President Allende in Chile on September 11, 1973 and the subsequent takeover by dictator Pinochet. The film is a montage of black and white actual footage as told in a voiceover by a Chilean exile writing his memoirs about the significance of September 11th to the Chilean people. The film portrays the betrayals by Henry Kissinger and the CIA, painting the Americans with the shameful brush of dealing with terrorists. The film has little artistic presentation; rather it is more a series of scenes about death and mayhem perpetrated upon the populace of Chile. The parallel it tries to depict seems to be over-reaching to make its point. It is no doubt a historical account that needs to be told; however, the forum would more appropriate as a documentary on the History Channel.

Scene 7. The Mexican born director, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, who brought us the award winning "Amores Perros", has leaped into this foray, falling to his doom as rapidly as the many falling bodies from the Trade Center he intermittently flashes on the screen. Most of the eleven minutes is in total darkness, with an occasional cacophony of unintelligible voices peppering our eardrums. The only visuals are intermittent views of bodies falling and falling from the towers. The only redeeming feature of this test of patience is the end where a translation of the Arabic appears on the screen, stating, "Does God's light blind us or guide us?" This segment would be a good time to guide us to the restroom for a brief respite.

Scene 8. Amos Gitai, the Israeli director, drags us along through eleven agonizing minutes of sheer irritation of a local bombing scene in Israel. Entirely shot at an obviously staged bombing scene in Tel Aviv, this slice of film dribble seems more like the Israeli version of the Keystone cops than it is telling a story. An ambulance driver, a policeman, and a policewoman dominate the screens repeatedly shouting directions at the crowd and their fellow rescue workers until it becomes unbearably irritating. While all this nonsense grates us continuously, a TV journalist is running back and forth shouting into her microphone while her cameraman chases her around dodging the annoyed police and rescue workers. Ultimately, she discovers that her bosses have preempted her coverage of the bombing in light of the World Trade Center plane crashes. It was one of the few times I wished for a remote with a mute button.

Scene 9. India's "Monsoon Wedding" director, Mira Nair is one of the few segments that actually manage to tell an absorbing tale. It is an account of a Moslem woman caught up in the confusion and prejudice in the aftermath of 9/11. The heroine of the tale is desperately trying to find her missing adult son immediately after the collapse of the Towers. The authorities suspect that the son is a terrorist that may have had something to do with the events of 9/11. Her neighbors in New York shun her and others seem obviously offended by her Moslem appearance. The animosity and prejudice of the American people she encounters is palpable and upsetting. She suspects her son may be one of the prisoners held incommunicado by the FBI. She prays constantly for the safe return of her son and fantasizes seeing him pull away on a subway. Her distress is realistic and underlines the shameful treatment of herself and other innocents in the turmoil. The ending is heartening and helps to erase some of the shame the Moslem people have endured as a result of this shocking tragedy

Scene 10. At last, the long-awaited scene by US director Sean Penn unfolds in all its glory starring veteran actor Ernest Borgnine as the poor, obese, elderly widower enduring a maudlin existence in the shadows of the Trade Center in his Spartan one-room apartment. It is a struggle observing the stark realism of the daily routine of this broken man on what may be his last days. Penn tears at our heartstrings portraying the dedicated ritual of picking out Borgnine's dead wife's clothing and gently laying it out on her side of the bed. The flowers she obviously loved so much are withered and dying in their pot by the window. Penn draws out the compassion for this ancient mastodon as he slogs through his daily routines. Finally, one morning Borgnine is awakened by the sun streaming over his eyes as a result of one of the Towers slowly collapsing. He rises from the bed and notices that the flowers are now in full bloom, all the while the muted television is running in the background--the footage of the collapse unseen. Overjoyed, he presents this miracle to his fantasy wife at bedside, wholly oblivious of the cause of this phenomenon. Penn has taken this maudlin yarn to a new level of triteness. One might surmise that the intent was that out of evil some good comes along is hardly a justification for this anemic finale. Such banality is hardly a tribute or an insight to the carnage suffered that fateful day.

Scene 11. Last and perhaps least of the lot, is this bizarre tale told by Japanese director Shohei Imamura that unfolds in post World War II Japan in a tiny island village. A Japanese soldier is kept in a cage at home because the shock of the war has caused him to believe and act like a snake. His wife, who apparently has taken a lover on the side, feeds and cares for this hideous creature that slithers along the ground in his serpentine persona. He does not speak, he just hisses and slithers around his cage. His wife, as well as the audience is disgusted when he manages to almost swallow a rat. When he seriously tries to take a bite out of her, she exiles him from the house. The neighbors are outraged since he now is apparently killing and eating their poultry stock. They finally decide to hunt him down to recapture him. A flashback to the war seems the only association this has to do with the theme of the film, condemning the violence as a "holy War". In the last take, his wife at the waterfall sees him slither into and under the water, heedless of her cries to him. A real snake is then seen at the waters edge on a rock as it hisses in all its clichéd splendor to suggest that he has now turned into a snake. Dessert is usually the best part of the meal. This celluloid tripe would have best been served on the cutting room floor.