Review: Non-Stop

Do we still have taboos in pop culture? Sex perhaps? A little, but consider that a mainstream film based on the mommy porn that shall remain nameless is set for release on Valentine's Day next year. The hurdle isn't quite cleared, but it's passing beneath our feet as I type. Violence? Stopped being an issue years ago. There's a whole 'nother, very rantish article to be written on the fact that a PG-13 movie can show a guy being riddled with bullets but can't have shirtless woman onscreen, but let's just admit the issue is dead and move on. Terrorism?

Terrorism?

I was 12 years old on September 11, 2001. Sitting in math class on that bright Tuesday morning, when a runner sent by the headmaster burst in and told al of us to report to the assembly hall, right now. This was long before smartphones, so as we filed into the large hall my only indication of what had happened was a circle of adults huddled by the double doors. Some of our teachers were weeping already. I saw a lot of people cry that day. Look, I would never, ever hold myself up as an example of someone traumatized by that horrific day. I was hundreds of miles away, my family and friends all safe.  And I'll still never forget it. None of us will.

All of this is, of course, is preamble to a film review. I thought a lot about the perfect opening line. Openings are difficult. You need something catchy and hooky, something tone-setting, something that encapsulates a strong emotion you've experienced regarding the film. What I settled on was this; Fuck you, Jaume Collet-Serra, John Richardson, Chris Roach, Ryan Engle. Fuck your arrogance, your stupidity, your insensitive cash-grabbing bullshit.

My mother told me never to say anything if I couldn't say something nice. So I say this: Non-Stop is a well made film. It looks great and uses its claustrophobic setting with genuine skill. Collet-Serra is a better-than-competent director, and imbues the proceedings with a thrumming tension. Action scenes are crisply choreographed, classically shot and edited. The film features lots of excellent actors doing their damnedest to elevate the material. Ok, got all that? These are good things. I have bestowed compliments. I won't pretend this is an impartial review, because the movie made me so angry I don't think I'm capable of writing one of those, but I present the preceeding opinions in the interests of balance. So, about that script….

I won't say that it's too soon to invoke 9/11 in a Hollywood popcorn entertainment. That would imply a pivot point, some date on which we can start chuckling about the greatest national tragedy most of us living today have ever experienced. No. Just…. No. For most of it's run time this movie is about a federal air marshal, searching for whoever is causing the deaths of various people onboard his plane. The killers are demanding a gigantic ransom. They have planted evidence framing the marshal for these crimes. This is a fine, even ingenious premise, skillfully delivered. And then, it turns out that the killers are ex-military, and they are planning to blow up the plane as a way of forcing the United States to fix what they percieve as a failure of security in the aftermath of 9/11. One of them is planning to go down with the plane, becoming the exact kind of suicide bomber he joined the army to defeat. Yes, I know I'm spoiling the movie. I consider it a public service.

Every day, even now over a decade later, American soldiers risk their lives to defend the safety of a country that was so very, very badly wounded by lunatics hijacking airplanes. To depict two of their number engaged in the same atrocity that spurred many of them to enlist in the first place is to insult their heroism and patriotism. Notice that Collet-Serra and his writers insert a useless subplot regarding an adorable little girl on her first plane trip. Had this plot been used at the beginning of the film to give flavoring to Liam Neeson's character, to show his gentleness and paternal instincts, it would not be worthy of comment. It is not. The film returns to the child over and over; A major, climactic special-effects sequence shows her being rescued as she is about to fall out of the plane (long story). The hijackers are such slimes, the movie tells us, that they will kill the innocent child to prove a point. Again, we're talking about two former soldiers who enlisted as a direct response to 9/11. The movie is an insult to all the uniformed men and women who would quite literally rather die than do any of what is shown in this "entertainment."

I believe that film, as a medium, is capable of grappling with all the issues rattling around Collet-Serra's empty skull. Other, better filmmakers have achieved some measure of success. Paul Greengrass' United 93 is a stunning piece of cinematic art, and elegaic in it's pure, humanist simplicity. I am not demanding that every cop, soldier, and firefighter shown on film is a driven-snow hero. There are lots of assholes in those and every other profession, and I prefer authenticity of artifice. But what we should call for is a certain respect. Respect for their sacrifices, for their struggles with traumatization, for the nobility of their actions. This film has no respect. It is a commercial product, created for the singular purpose of making money. We can all do better.