Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Warner Bros. / Paramount Pictures, 2011

Directed by Stephen Daldry

Starring: Thomas Horn, Sandra Bullock, Tom Hanks, Maxwell von Sydow

Three stars

On Oscar Nomination morning, a lot of people were shocked when Stephen Daldry's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was read off as the 9th Best Picture nominee. The film, which is based on the 2005 novel of the same name (by Jonathan Safran Foer), had already suffered a massive critical beat down, scoring in the 40% range on both Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic, and common consensus was that the film was melodramatic and emotionally manipulative, using the 9/11 World Trade Center attacks as a means to draw a few tears from the audience and make a couple bucks. Nevertheless, I predicted the film as a long shot alternate, wondering if the it had released just at the right time and left enough of an impression on voters to score a nomination. Evidently, it had, and it did land that nomination (along with one for supporting actor Maxwell von Sydow), making it the only one of the nine films I had not seen before nomination day.

While Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was certainly far from my favorite film of the year, and while it does have its share of flaws, the fact that much of the criticism for the film surrounded its use of the 9/11 events as the backdrop of the story made me scratch my head a bit. Over the past decade, I've seen many people use the words "too soon" in regards to artistic manifestations of that terrible day: it happened in 2006, when filmmakers Oliver Stone and Paul Greengrass made a pair of films focusing on different aspects of the terror. It probably happened in 2002, when Bruce Springsteen released his comeback album The Rising, where many of the songs discussed the overwhelming sense of loss and grief that gripped the nation following the attacks. It most certainly happened (and probably rightfully so) in 2010, when what looked to be a pretty straightforward Robert Pattison romance flick (Remember Me) concluded with the mother of all deus-ex-machina devices, with the main character dying in the World Trade Center in the penultimate scene. In all of these cases, still grieving citizens made the argument that these filmmakers and artists were trying to make money off of their grief, trying to tap into that day tragedy for monetary benefit. But we can't simply ignore that day, and just as WWII has provided the backdrop for countless films for ages, the events of September 11th will be revisited, time and time again, from different angles.

I personally don't have a problem with the 9/11 subject matter if it is handled well: Greengrass made one of the most effective and moving films of the last decade with United 93, which did its very best to tell the story as it happened, in complete realism, without a single Hollywood moment. However, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close hardly even fits into the same category anyway, since only a fraction of the film takes place on September 11th, and most of it revolves around what follows. So even though Extremely Loud is destined to be thought of as "the 9/11 film" throughout this year's Oscar season and probably forever, it's far more about dealing with the devastation of losing a person you love, about learning how to live without that person, even as their memory is with you everywhere you go, than it is about a day in our nation's history. In that regard, I think the film does a terrific job, and even though I didn't personally love every moment of the film, it does pack one hell of an emotional punch. I can certainly understand why Oscar voters responded to it the way they did, even if the higher-brow critical faction didn't find much to enjoy.

Many of the criticisms have also been levied towards Thomas Horn, who portrays Oskar, a child with asperger's who is the central protagonist of the story. I read somewhere that the whole movie was essentially "Horn running around screaming," and while that is obviously an exaggerated remark, the character's mannerisms and personality did start to wear on me towards the films middle section. That said, Oskar is a character who is not entirely likable by design: all evidence suggests that this boy has no real friendships in his school environment. His best friend and his only real link to the world around him was his father (a dependably solid Tom Hanks), who would design tasks to get him to talk to strangers and break out of his shell, and when he perishes in the World Trade Center, Oskar can't really comprehend that loss. The main thrust of the plot involves one final task Oskar believes his father left to him, and he ventures out into the wide expanses of New York City, trying to solve the puzzle. In his searching, Oskar encounters hundreds of people, many suffering from the same kind of grief that he's working through, and eventually it becomes obvious that his task isn't about the destination, but the journey it takes to get there.

The supporting cast is aces all around: Viola Davis, a likely Best Actress winner for her terrific work last year in The Help, has a small but important role as one of the many lives that Oskar wanders into (and changes) throughout his quest. Maxwell von Sydow doesn't say a word throughout the whole film, but his silent, quirky facade makes him the perfect companion for Oskar, even as he hides a life full of pain and regret. And Sandra Bullock gives her best performance to date as Oskar's mother, who, as we learn in the film's final act, isn't quite what she seems. Near the end of the film, Horn and Bullock share a scene that is just dynamite, discussing grief, love and loss, and remembering the man that was taken away from them far too soon. "I miss his voice telling me he loves me," Bullock's character says quietly. It's the perfect encapsulation of loss, condensed down to a single line, and at that moment, there might not have been a dry eye in the house. If I had to pin down why this film got the Best Picture nomination that alluded many much more critically acclaimed films, from Dragon Tattoo to Tinker, Tailor to The Ides of March, I'd point to that single scene: I doubt there's a more powerful one in any of the nominees this year.

When I first saw the trailer for this film, I actually teared up a little bit. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of so many powerful images and ideas from the film's center, or maybe it was all about the use of U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name" (one of my top five favorite songs of all time), but either way, it was a trailer that resonated with me immediately, and a film I gravitated towards for that reason. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close has taken a lot of flak (and will continue to be on the receiving end of it for awhile, thanks to that Oscar nomination), but once I got past all of that nonsense and right to the core of the film, there was something really worthwhile there. It's not my favorite film of the year: I'd probably rank towards the lower end of the Best Picture nominees, but I don't think there has been a more misunderstood or unfairly maligned film in the past year. Because ultimately, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close really is a good movie. Maybe not a great one and maybe not one I can see myself revisiting a lot down the road, but I'm glad it was made, I'm glad I saw it, and I am truly glad the Academy chose to give it a reprieve from the nonsensical critical slaughter it has received.

And damn, I still love that trailer...