Directed by Youssef Chahine, Amos Gitai, Alejandro González
Iñárritu, Shohei Imamura, Claude Lelouch, Ken Loach, Samira Makhmalbaf,
Mira Nair, Idrissa Ouedraogo, Sean Penn, Danis Tanovic. (STC) 134 min.
Opens Nov 14.
A collection of shorts by 11 filmmakers that debuted on the festival circuit last year, 11'09"01
has already attracted hostility for daring to offer different responses
to the events of Sept. 11, 2001 than, say, the desire to bomb the fuck
out of some Middle Eastern backwater. Here, there is shock, grief,
sympathy, confusion and revulsion and 11'09"01 is valuable for
the way it captures a wide range of reactions, especially in light of
how the Bush administration cynically directed the American public's
most virulent feelings about 9/11 toward a country whose connections to
Al-Qaeda may be as real as the Easter Bunny.
More controversially, 11'09"01
also conveys a certain smugness -- several filmmakers can't resist the
temptation to suggest that America was getting a taste of the pain that
it routinely, if clandestinely, dealt out to the rest of the globe. In
his contribution, Ken Loach points out that Americans can't even claim
the date as unique, Sept. 11 being the anniversary of the US-backed
overthrow of Salvador Allende's government in Chile. Clearly, the
events of 9/11 are a volatile subject, one made even more so by the
fact that the sole American contributor to 11'09"01 is Sean
Penn, a man whose political beliefs -- judging by his bizarre trip to
pre-war Baghdad -- may be most kindly described as idiosyncratic. (His
short is also the most risible thing here.)
As with any omnibus film, the contents of
11'09"01 are
variable in quality, but the highs are very high. In Samira
Makhmalbaf's poignant vignette, Afghan schoolchildren struggle to
understand even what a tower is (the frustrated teacher likens the
World Trade Center to a nearby chimney stack). Mira Nair's true-life
story about the family of a young Pakistani-American who is
investigated as a possible terrorist before being celebrated as a hero
is also deeply affecting. The most harrowing piece is by Alejandro
González Iñárritu, who juxtaposes a dense soundtrack of music and news
reports with a dark screen and pictures of people falling from the
towers. The use of the latter is nearly indefensible, yet it restores
power to an image that has been so often repeated and repackaged, we
have become numb to its horror.
11'09"01 reminds us that
however the events of that day will be seen or interpreted, the most
important act is to remember them. As William Faulkner wrote, "The past
isn't dead -- it isn't even past."