I went to see The Devil Wears Prada a couple of weeks ago. (loved the movie, the book was better) and one of the trailers before it was for for the upcoming movie World Trade Center.
The tagline: The World Saw Evil That Day – Two Men Saw Something Else
I admit it. I couldn’t get through the trailer without crying. In fact, I began almost immediately once I realized what the movie was about. The first thing that flew out of my mouth to my friend next to me was “I think it’s too soon.” Between her sniffles I heard, “Me, too.”
It was five years ago and what was it about that day that still brings up a geyser of emotions? The fact that we are still fighting this battle and havn’t won? That fact that we have to fight at all? I can wax myself patriotic all I want but the fact is I am pissed off that America made a mess out of another mess. But that’s a post for another time.
I’m excited to see Michael Pena on screen again. I love him in Crash and I hoep to see a long career of his in years to come. I question the strange casting of Nicholas Cage in the lead role, but even more than that, I was completely surprised by whose film this is: Oliver Stone’s.
Oliver Stone? The man who gave us Natural Born Killers – one of the worst pieces of cinematic disasters even commited to film? Attacking this subject? And making money off it? Considering his complete body of work, this subject is right up his ally. Although I question it, I won’t write him off just yet. However, I’m not sure I can go see this movie.
I remember being at work and only able to hear things on the radio. Then I remember going home and being unable to turn the TV off. I wanted to know what happened. I wasnted to know who did this and why. I wanted to know what it felt like to be there. I worried about the friends I had that lived in NY. I was sad.
I was in D.C. about six weeks after the attacks. I was scheduled well before the events of 9/11 to work at a conference for the company I worked for in the downtown DC area. The conference was not cancelled, and if memory serves flight has only been up and going for a couple of weeks. Everyone was on edge. No one complained about the long line, the extensive “pat-downs”, and everyone’s eyes darted in each direction. I was asked to drink from a fountain pop I’d purchased the second time I went through the metal detector to get to my gate. I’d taken many trips for work before. This was certainly the most memorable.
We took the subway to see the pentagon and I got a whole new glimpse into what the tiny images on TV, that up until then had only made me sad. Being there made me angry. Up on the hill by the highway that run next to this huge octogon-shaped building, all I could do was call my dad. I told him what it was like to be there. I told him about the photos and art and flags and ribbon that surrounded the tree up on that hill. But I couldn’t even describe the damage I saw. There were really no words.
I still have few words I could even express about that day. Sometimes our lives are too full of words, you know?