Such a Movie

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was at the Mall of America, the largest shopping center in the U.S., located on the outskirts of Minneapolis. When the news of the terrorist attack, which became known as 9/11 spread, visitors and customers at the mall rushed to the bars and to Sears. The former had T.V. screens and the latter sold TV sets.

As if bewitched, they watched, in dead silence, the planes crash into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York.

Suddenly, somebody’s voice broke the silence: “It’s like in the movies!”

It was like a dam burst. People started vying with each other, trying to recollect sci-fi and horror films about “doomsday.” They were remembering that some of those films had accurately depicted the destruction of the twin towers.

Recollections of the 9/11 attack and people’s reaction to it at the Mall of America have been revived by a new catastrophe that struck Japan. T.V. channels have focused on broadcasting the most “spectacular” element of the disastrous triumvirate — the tsunami. And, like in the Mall of America on Sept. 11, 2001, people exclaimed: “It’s like in the movies!”

They recalled films about floods and the classic film “The Hurricane,” with the breathtakingly beautiful Dorothy Lamour.

“It’s like in the movies…” Why say this? It is not just because reality and cinematographic technology in films render events almost identical. We capture this mood not just for the sake of doing so. It’s a defensive reaction. The phrase, “It’s like in the movies” implies that what is happening is “not real.” You can leave the cinema or turn off the T.V. any time you want and the nightmare will stop. You know that the people who “perished” are just actors and they are still alive. Even the animals are alive; their deaths during filming are prohibited by the Hollywood Production Code (the prohibition extends even to insects).

But, at the same time, the reassuring “like” emphasizes that the 9/11 attack and the apocalypse in Japan are “not just like” the movies but involve life and death itself, without any chance for resurrection. After the terrorist attack on Sept. 11, 2001, it became popular to say that “9/11 has changed everything.” In fact, it changed nothing. Everything remains as it used to be. In any case, our insatiability for disaster films shown at the cinemas, broadcast on T.V. and, for some time now, in video games, remains. It is our “love for disaster” that keeps afloat and enriches our film industry.

The film “Battle: Los Angeles” premiered in the U.S. right after the tsunami; it topped the charts and made $35.6 million in the first weekend. In the film, the heroes of the film, the Marines, save human civilization from an extraterrestrial invasion and, most importantly, the city of the American dream, Los Angeles.

Some critics dared to give a squeak that in light of the drama taking place in Japan, the premiere could have been postponed. Those conscientious critics were shushed, for the show must go on. In addition to that, they were reminded that the Japanese are the very creators of the films featuring “urban, destructive monsters.” (The Godzilla films.) And yet, “Battle: Los Angeles,” although produced in Hollywood, was financed by the Japanese company Sony.

Some of the critics reckon that $35.6 million is the price the American people paid for a couple of hours of not thinking about the real catastrophe.