Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011)

Directed by: Stephen Daldry
Written by: Eric Roth
Starring: Thomas Horn, Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Max von Sydow, Viola Davis
Rated: PG-13  

I have always been embarrassed when people talk about 11 September and what they felt when the Towers collapsed. They almost invariably say that it was crystallized in their memory as the most significant event that they have lived through. It probably is the most important thing that has occurred in my lifetime and the morning of 9/11 is imprinted in my mind, but I regret to say I was unmoved by the events. I was, in fact, unaware of what actually happened for three days, and was still unclear as to what was fully going on until months later. What happened brought our nation together, and although I am not exactly a patriot I do strongly believe in life, liberty and the pursuit of property. I do not believe in God, but I celebrate the ability to follow a faith and to practice free speech. Above all, I value a feeling of security in one's life and a person's authority to think for themselves.

A film about a child's grief following his father's death in 9/11 should hold these values true too, and in a way the content of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close does that, but Stephen Daldry's unduly invasive direction manipulates the moods and emotions of the film so completely that the audience is never allowed to experience the movie; they are dragged involuntarily through his over-worked vision, and it is because I was not allowed to think or feel for myself that I hate his product.

Newcomer Thomas Horn is given the weighty role of Oskar Schell, a nine-year-old renaissance prodigy who, while trying to cling to the memory of his dead father (Tom Hanks), discovers a world without reason which stands contrary to his logical mind. While rummaging through his father's closet, Oskar happens upon a mysterious key in an envelope with the word "Black" scrawled on the front. Believing this to be one of the many intellectual quests that he played with his dad he sets out to discover its meaning. Assuming that the word could only be a name, he decides to meet everyone named Black in New York City in order to find the lock that would fit his key.

Oskar sets aside six minutes for each visit, but they always take far too long and of course he doesn't immediately gain the information he needs. We know, however, that if the key is a part of some elaborate game then the point is not the end result. Oskar is an insufferable whelp of child, and I'm not sure how anyone could tolerate his presence for more than a couple of minutes. Being deficient in the realm of human interaction, this journey would simply be for him to meet the people of New York. For the audience, however, it is a way to glimpse the many lives of those affected by what he calls "The Worst Day".

You may laugh at times in this movie, and if you have a heart you most certainly will cry, but it is only because that is what Daldry wants you to do. Like his pretentious, annoyingly eccentric and wordy protagonist, the film is wrought with so many quirks and such grand heavy-handedness that it blazes across the dividing line from being artistic to just plain obnoxious. Because of the material, it is difficult not to be moved and there are certainly scenes which a very powerful, but these appeared to be the ones where Daldry had the least to say.

There is a wealth of fine supporting actors, some of them doing tremendous work including Sandra Bullock as Oskar's mother, Viola Davis as Abby Black, and particularly Max von Sydow as the mysterious mute renter living with his grandmother. They float in and out of Oskar's life giving him knowledge that can't be found in an index or on a map.

All of them are overshadowed by Horn's miserable acting, unfortunately. He is a new actor, and that's fair enough, but this story is about the people of New York. It is understood that there needed to be a plot, flimsy as it was, to draw together these snapshots of an immense web of individuals, but that almost became irrelevant to one troubled boy's inability to make peace with himself. Not only was most of the story a repetition of the same scenarios, we also had to listen to corny narration where Oskar describes what we watch and tries to inspire us about the world we live in. A film should be revelatory, not a blunt hammer to the skull.

So often I wished for a new encounter with supporting character, caricatured though they were (it seems every person in New York is peculiar, one-dimensional and incredibly unique--a cross-dresser, for example, or an equestrienne), for at least it would give us a break from listening to Horn's clipped, precise, stage-like and effeminate speech (not to mention that infernal tambourine he incessantly bangs on), and present us with a seasoned actor doing fine work.

It was quite clear that writer Eric Wroth enjoyed Jonathan Safran Foer's novel from which this was based. Although I haven't read it, the dialogue seems to be very much intact, little of it having been adapted to be pleasant to the ear. This was a terribly long two hours and one of the worst films the Academy has ever honored with a Best Picture nomination. Gracious though they were to a film about a reprehensible attack, undue praise was attached to it at the expense of "Drive", "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Pt. 2" and "Albert Nobbs". Fast forward to the small scenes with the aforementioned actors, skip the rest, and puzzle your way out of my own logic question: why didn't his mother simply send him to grief counselling and spare us all the trouble?

0.5/4