keith-farman-1

If this film sets the tone for the many 9/11 related films in the pipeline it will have served a useful purpose. Though necessarily conjectural in detail, in broad terms it tries to tell the nightmare story whose tragic ending we all know, without embellishment. Claustrophobic cinematography, an atmospheric understated score and self-effacing performances by a largely unknown cast, give Greengrass's film an impressive air of authority. Its razor-sharp, relentless editing creates a crescendoing pace towards chaos that is so effective that at moments one has to remind oneself to breathe out.

No, the questions that press in remorselessly are not aesthetic. There is no sign of disrespect towards these iconic victims in the form or content of this superbly crafted docu-drama. It is in the fact of its existence and its commercial cinematic production and distribution within a disturbingly opaque political context, that one's doubts and qualms are aroused. There are no rights and wrongs here - only judgements. Many Americans for example, regard re-cycling 100's of tons of metal from the World Trade Centre debris into the building of a new warship, as respectful and appropriate recognition. Others, and I am among them, regard it as at best, deeply insensitive to the precious uniqueness and diversity of belief of the thousands of human beings whose lives were erased before our very eyes in September 2001. Death. Live. Reality TV with a vengeance. Greengrass's film engenders precisely the same ambivalence - you cannot look away for a moment, but feel as if you should. Seductive, transfixing imagery. Obscene in effect, but not intent.

Greengrass has made some no doubt sincere efforts to justify his film. That he made it, not how he made it. For me, the ultimate justification is that he has recreated an image of an appalling reality with such care and attention to detail that it forces us to ask ourselves - should I be watching this? And genuinely struggle with the answer. Whatever it may be. After all, unlike the live TV pictures, United 93 is a planned, financed, publicised creation, that will make a substantial, intentional and desired profit. The camera makes unwitting but not always unwilling, voyeurs of us all. All is intention. And you can't prove an intention. I hope I will not be misunderstood when I recall a harrowing but in a sense uplifting story from the concentration camps: in unspeakable conditions, with no shred of privacy, when individuals went to the toilet, their fellow inmates, human beings, turned away. Cherishing the dignity of another and with sensitivity recognising it through refusing to look.

I would not argue with the view that watching the film of the original events of 9/11 was in a sense a duty - in a democratic society. Yet real political events and actions that led up to such insanity helped bring it about. And unless we are in a sense responsible for the actions of those we elect, then democracy is a sham. But in their endless repetition, are we in a sense watching the same images? Is the legitimacy, sensibility of these repeated viewings, automatically validated by the fact that in a literal sense they are the same? This is the kind of dilemma Greengrass's film poses for me. Surely it is of the logic of corruption that we are unaware of it when it is taking place? Refusing to watch the events of 9/11 as a means of denial is as dubious as passively sharing their repetition. The great strength of United 93 is that as it displays good judgement, avoiding all the major pitfalls and horrendous insensitivities we may fear from future films, it poses profound questions about our relationship to images we pay to see and that are created with the motivation to profit. Only in this can I see real justification - the film does not, and does not seek, to offer any insights or explanations to illuminate these dreadful events. To help us understand them better. To accept the view that they are simply inexplicable, meaningless, insane acts by insane people is to buy into the fear and paranoia peddled by politicians both sides of the Atlantic. There is no future or peace in victim-hood. Even less if it is revengeful.

And I cannot help but wonder whether a film with the same rigorous attention to detail and concern for the horror experienced by precious human beings, about to die needlessly and pointlessly, would get made, still less watched, if it were set in Baghdad on the first night of what was called 'Shock and Awe' - to America's eternal shame. And ours.

True heroism, like martyrdom, must be imposed by fate, not sought. This is a profound moral principle that exercised Joseph Conrad in Lord Jim. Again, Robert Bolt's Sir Thomas More in A Man For All Seasons does everything he can to avoid his looming martyrdom - except sacrifice his conscience and moral identity.

This is not the only moral concept within this quiet, dignified, deeply moving German film, that resonates with significance for today's world. Much literature and most films, portray heroism as dramatic, with feats of daring and thrilling actions. This finely judged, beautifully played little film shows us heroism of a different kind: an unshakeable belief in justice, loyalty to personal conscience, and conviction unto death of the reality of the idea of freedom.

The story of the events leading up to the actual execution in 1943, of Sophie Scholl, her brother Hans and friend Christoph Probst, is horrifying for the sheer banality of their offence. As members of a student group, the White Rose, they were secretly distributing pamphlets daring to question Hitler's conduct of the war and the likelihood of victory. On discovery they are drawn into a process with none of the strutting, grandiose black clad villains so beloved of decades of British and American movies. Like someone standing too close to a dangerous machine, they are caught by a tiny thread of circumstance and increasingly dragged deeper and deeper into its destructive mechanism.

Each meticulous step in their tragedy is efficiently recorded, documented and processed with a detached calm that makes one shudder when one recalls the sheer bureaucratic efficiency with which the same machine disposed of 6 million Jews, Gypsies, and other selected groups of human beings. It is enormously affecting that three of the brightest and best of German youth are subjected to the same fate because of their refusal to conform to a corrupted nationalism and a cowed people. Perhaps because it suggests that the collective insanity that was Germany in the 30's and 40's was not a uniquely German phenomenon but one to which any society might succumb if the voice of justice is silenced, the rule of law subverted and fear becomes the currency of social life. Another conventional and comfortable fiction of British and American movies cast in doubt. And a thought for today.

The moral and dramatic heart of this absorbing film is in Sophie's extended interrogation by Mohr (Gerald Held), one time rural policeman now grateful to the Reich for his elevation to interrogator with the power of life or death over his prisoners. Mohr looks more like a stern Bank Manager unconvinced by a cash-flow projection than a leering, jack-booted man in black with silver lightning flashes. A father himself, he clearly finds Sophie's moral conviction and stubborn resistance disturbing. He can relate to her intelligence, her attractiveness, determination and self-destructive honesty. Everything except her moral condemnation of Hitler and the Reich. Mohr is like someone who knows the emperor is naked but is shocked when someone says it out loud. The acting in these scenes is simply superb, we see Sophie's sheer naked courage and idealistic conviction shake Mohr's blind unquestioning conformity. Only to be retrenched behind blank, dead, unthinking eyes.

The excellent Julia Jentsch (The Edukators and Downfall) plays brilliantly the intelligent, idealistic Sophie with her absolute commitment to justice and freedom. She moves towards her death through a system reminiscent of a strictly run, aseptic hospital. And at every step of the way, we see ordinary people, trapped in a nightmare they can see but not change. Each finds a way to show Sophie their empathy; from the communist prisoner staying alive by working for her jailors to the warderess who bends the rules to allow the three condemned young people a final cigarette and hug of comfort before their execution.

A great strength of the movie is that Sophie's religious faith is shown but left entirely personal. Both in her interrogation and sham trial, she appeals to moral principle and humanity not religious belief, in her defence of freedom and her refusal to be silent in the face of injustice.

This film is as unsettling as it is moving. It makes one ask - how many of us in similar circumstances, would have the courage to stand against the sheer weight of social conformity reinforced by an atmosphere of fear and an implacable application of lethal power? Heroism indeed, serving a belief in the ultimate right to personal conscience and the indestructibility of the idea of freedom in justice. The intensely moving photographs of the real Sophie Scholl and White Rose group that close the film give them a final victory over their oppressors. Sixty years after their deaths, their story is told and their memory cherished. It is fitting that such heroism be recognised. If you can seek this one out don't miss it. Inspirational.

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