
Like most of us, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. Highway 2 between Calgary and Edmonton en route to a western religions class on modern Islam, enjoying the sunrise to my right and listening to the radio. A plane had flown into the World Trade Center and I wondered how drunk a pilot had to be to miss seeing that in the way. Then word of a second plane and, immediately, I knew this was no accident. Then came that sick, pull-the-car-over, "what the hell just happened" feeling. Even as the news reports poured into the college cafeteria, we didn't comprehend the full impact of what had just taken place, either in personal or historical terms. We were too shocked, too numb, too much in-the-moment.
As the days and months unfolded, we went from sad to worried to a little crazy. Every Walmart and Home Depot in the midwest States figured it was next. Unceasing CNN danger alerts kept Americans entrenched in fear and George Bush in office. In eventually going after bin Laden, the President couldn't resist pointing his guns at Saddam Hussein, lambasting the French, and insisting that we were either with him or with the evildoers (i.e. Al-Qaeda - oh and by the way, Iran and North Korea, too). The Dixie Chicks couldn't criticize the President without engendering the closest thing to a Nazi-style CD burning on U.S. soil. For years, the news became a surreal, nightmarish rehearsing of America's most embarrassing traits and ugliest historical moments - McCarthyism, the Red Scare, bomb shelters, racial segregation - in short, conservative fear-mongering on the right and liberal pandering to Islamic groups on the left, none of which seemed close to addressing the real problem. But as nuts as it all seemed, it made perfect sense at the time. We were sad and shocked. More than anything we were, well, terrified.
Ten years later, it's interesting to think about how Hollywood reflected (or fed) our public and private emotional responses to 9/11, as well as our eventual determination to move on.

Images of the WTC were quickly pulled from films and television ads. Early promos for 2002's Spiderman were immediately re-shot. In Serendipity and Zoolander, the twin towers were digitally edited out. Other films were re-written, postponed or axed altogether. The ending of 2002's Men in Black II, originally located at the WTC, was moved to the Statue of Liberty grounds. The release of Arnold's Shwarzenegger's Collateral Damage (whose tagline, "the war hits home", was ultimately removed) was delayed a full year. Jackie Chan's Nosebleed, about a window washer who discovers a plot to bomb the towers, was shelved permanently.


"I think one of the major problems that the movie industry now faces," said Collateral Damage screenwriter Terry George at the time, "particularly the big studios that produce the mega-blockbusters -- is that the reality of events on Sept. 11 so overshadowed and engaged and shocked this nation and the world, that any attempt to come close to, or duplicate, or re-enact a similar scenario is going to look pretty foolish and pathetic."
And yet our appetite for cinematic destruction didn't go anywhere. In fact, we got hungrier. North American video rentals of high-action films like Die Hard and Independence Day skyrocketed right after 9/11. And if ticket sales for half-milers like 2012 in the years since say anything, it's that we never really lost our fear (or desire) to see shit blow up and tragedy rain down upon us.
And of course we still needed heroes, perhaps more than ever. For a while, Hollywood served up (apparently to our delight) national champions who defended the "homefront", even if it was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away. Troy's Achilles (Brad Pitt) and 300's Leonidas (Gerard Butler) appealed not only to the ladies but to anyone wanting to believe someone could step up and protect us.


And now we get Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon. Sigh.
I guess it was inevitable. And you know what, probably a good thing. Because it means we didn't let the bastards completely destroy our way of life, even if our way of life includes moral conundrums like Michael Bay. By and large, I think Hollywood and filmmakers in general have done a pretty good job of mirroring, exploring and helping us get through the last decade. Sure, we've been manipulated, duped or pandered to in some of those films. But that's Hollywood for you. That's life. If even a handful of them consoled us and helped us effectively process the unbelievable shock and grief that hit us on September 11, 2001, then we have one more reason to love going to the movies.