The new movie about the events in the life of a young boy after the aftermath of 9/11, "Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close," has been receiving mixed reviews. Many critics are acting as if the filmmakers behind this excellent work have committed some sort of cinematic sin by invoking the events of the day that forever changed America and placing all the weight of a weary world on the shoulders of a child.
If the movie, which is based on the novel of the same name by Jonathan Safran Foer, is approached as a work that is primarily rooted in reality, then I can understand some of the carping, although I still think it's ridiculous.
However, this approach would be wrong. "Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close" is fiction, and it should be looked at as a story about a quest, a fairy tale if you will, and I mean "fairy tale" in the best sense of the description. Only the event that triggers the quest is real. Some people only want dwarfs and vampires in their fairy tales.
The film is rife with considerable virtues. Quibble if you will about this nuance or that notion, but give me a break about any blanket condemnation. More and more, I'm finding that some critics are forgetting what risk-filled movies are supposed to do to the moviegoer.
These critics have succumbed to the malaise that has gripped the American motion picture industry for far too many years. They seem to relish only the continuing slop of studio pabulum. They want their coddling pop rhythms, not any raw and scary punk music. They want the films they see to be comparable to vanilla pudding -- safe and mono-flavored.
These reviewers have settled into a comfort zone of their own making. Too many of them become "quote whores," ready to slather mediocrity with praise. In a movie advertisement, if you ever see a film described as "the rollercoaster ride of the summer," you may consider that this line of praise has been paid for. Oh, certainly not in cash, but most assuredly in access to directors and stars and lots and lots of promotional gifts.
Heaven help edgy moviemakers who truly dare to challenge an audience in the United States. It's a risk worth taking, but it's a risk few want to take. What this means is that Hollywood, in the generic meaning of the word, is fast becoming the cartographical equivalent of the Edsel. And the folks out in Hollywood wonder why ticket sales are the worst since 1995.
Look, there's no denying that there are seriously bad movies. My job is to tell you that "Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close" is not one of them.
Foer's novel is not about what happened on Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, a day during which Americans felt the cold dark hand of evil, most of them for the first time in their lives.
Certainly, the drama that encompasses the attacks on 9/11 gives the film some heft at its beginning. However, the gist of the picture is an exploration of the aftermath of so numbing a trauma. It examines how people have to return their lives to some kind of balance. How people, especially those with loved ones and friends who died, have to struggle to get past what happened. Of course, that's an impossibility. You don't simply "get over" an event like 9/11. Loss, grief and unrelenting sadness are not things you "get over."
The movie focuses on a grade school boy who is wrapped in a framework of jittery tics and who is a child learned beyond his years. He's definitely obsessive compulsive. He's already been tested for Asperger's syndrome, a diagnosis that would have made sense had it been applied to him.
The film will follow the boy on his relentless quest through the streets of New York City as he tries to make sense of a mysterious key he found among his beloved father's possessions. Just the fact that the kid would fixate on the meaning of the key tells us he's not an average person. Where is the lock this key opens? Oskar Schell is determined to discovered the answer. This act will force him to socialize, something at which he is obviously not adept.
Oskar and his father, Thomas, have a warm, believable and fascinating relationship. They love puzzles and maps and the intellectual equivalent of scavenger hunts.
On 9/11, the elder Schell, who owns a jewelry store, is at a meeting at the World Trade Center. In the tower he is in, he is above the floors struck by the jetliner. He leaves a series of messages on the answering machine in the comfortable apartment he shares with his wife, Linda, and with Oskar. These messages, which range from calm coolness to horribly stressful, will play an important part as the movie progresses.
Thomas dies, and Oskar wonders if he jumped to spare himself the horrors of the flames. His mother has buried an empty casket.
This is not blissful material. Director Stephen Daldry and screenwriter Eric Roth are not willing to wrap the audience in warm and loving arms, nor should they have felt the need to. The warm and loving arms belong to some of the people we meet in the film. The warm and loving arms will become part of the story.
Oskar's belief is that the key will bring him closer to his father. There's no denying his is a seemingly impossible task. But that's the task, which some negative critics have chosen to ignore. Yet they can find the energy to praise the more ludicrous task in the new "Mission: Impossible" feature -- a movie I enjoyed, by the way.
The key is in an envelope in a vase in an apartment closet. On the envelope is written the word "Black." With the help of a locksmith who doesn't know what the key opens, Oskar becomes convinced that the word "Black" is a name. He then zeroes in on his mission, which is to visit all 472 Blacks found in New York City's phone books.
The first Black he visits is a woman in Brooklyn named Abby. She is crying because at that very moment her husband, William, is leaving her. Oskar is not an empathetic child here. He has his own gloom with which to contend. And he has 471 more stops to make over the course of the story.
Director Daldry and screenwriter Roth understand perfectly how to present Oskar's mania. The smart editing by Claire Simpson is as nervous as the boy. This makes sense and it's not off-putting. Chris Menge's exceptional cinematography gives what is often a familiar New York some new and striking perspectives.
As Oskar's journey takes him through the city, his quest gathers steam. He meets a host of interesting and often unusual people. He has dared to leave the ease of his Manhattan life, and he soon discovers a world that no longer frightens him.
The film is filled with wonderful faces and characters. The file system Oskar creates for his search is ingenious. I've read absurd complaints that a young boy would never ride the subway alone. Clearly, these reviewers have never ridden the subway in New York. "Street-smart" might as well mean New York City kid.
Because we don't see Mr. Schell at the World Trade Center, we develop a strong bond with Oskar's sense of loss. He feels detached and helpless. He wants to rebuild his father, and the key may help him. How this all plays out is for you to discover.
"Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close" is acted by a superb ensemble cast. Oskar is wonderfully played by Thomas Horn in his first appearance on screen. He was discovered by someone watching the "Jeopardy" quiz show during Kids' Week. Young Mr. Horn does very well. He has an expressiveness that is honest. And he's up to the raw emotions of many of the scenes of bitterness and regret.
Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock are excellent as Oskar's parents. Hanks, seen mostly in flashbacks, plays a happy dad with a joy that is fun to watch. Bullock makes her character's empty heart our empty heart.
Also in the cast, as the locksmith, is actor Stephen McKinley Henderson, who divides his time between Buffalo and New York City. A powerful Broadway actor, he is also a professor of theater at the University of Buffalo.
Viola Davis and Jeffrey Wright are Abby and William Black, and Zoe Caldwell is Oskar's grandmother. John Goodman is the doorman at Oskar's building. And it takes casting genius to decide that Max von Sydow, gifted with a stentorian voice, is going to play a mute. He is exceptional. Strong acting really is in the eyes.
"Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close" is a potent work, one that creates its own mythology about 9/11. In focusing on the journey of one child, and in giving that child a purpose after the death of his father, both the novel and this film tell us a lot about determination.
The emotional movie concentrates on Oskar, because it's Oskar who, angry at the start and rigid in his reactions, has to learn how to soften and how to shed tears.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | Jan. 24 2012 |