A quantum leap for Edward Zwick, The Siege leaves behind Courage Under Fire's relatively flavorless tale of American "heroism" in the Gulf War for this maddeningly ambiguous story of terrorism in New York City. The Siege puts American society and international Islam at opposite ends of a supercollider, and pursues the most subtle results of their impact.
Hubbard, the FBI's top terrorism fighter, finds evidence that suggests a Hizballah-style terrorist cell has begun operating in New York, not the least of which is a group of American intelligence types interfering with the FBI's investigation. The smug leader of the intelligence group, Elise, reluctantly supplies Hubbard with information on her own investigation of the terrorists, but none of it is very satisfying. Zwick suggests the genuinely American response to crisis is to establish ineffectual spy-chains; military intelligence observes the FBI as it spies on Elise, who plies her Arab informant futilely.
What's fascinating about The Siege is the way it intermingles Islam (identified as alien by most American viewers) with things so utterly familiar. One of the opening scenes features a muezzin calling prayer from a minaret; as the camera pulls back, we find we are not in the Middle East, but the center of New York. Central to this effort (and equally fascinating) is the film's refusal to allow its characters to collapse into stereotypes. A terrorist pursues life as a liberal American intellectual, an arabic-speaking FBI agent struggles with issues of loyalty, and even Hubbard flirts with torturing an immigrant suspected of involvement with the terrorists. Identities are painfully intermingled. Hubbard leads one character through the lord's prayer as she dies, only to find that at her last exhalation, she calls on the name of Allah; few cinematic moments in recent memory have left me feeling so emotionally blindsided.
Hubbard, the FBI's top terrorism fighter, finds evidence that suggests a Hizballah-style terrorist cell has begun operating in New York, not the least of which is a group of American intelligence types interfering with the FBI's investigation. The smug leader of the intelligence group, Elise, reluctantly supplies Hubbard with information on her own investigation of the terrorists, but none of it is very satisfying. Zwick suggests the genuinely American response to crisis is to establish ineffectual spy-chains; military intelligence observes the FBI as it spies on Elise, who plies her Arab informant futilely.
What's fascinating about The Siege is the way it intermingles Islam (identified as alien by most American viewers) with things so utterly familiar. One of the opening scenes features a muezzin calling prayer from a minaret; as the camera pulls back, we find we are not in the Middle East, but the center of New York. Central to this effort (and equally fascinating) is the film's refusal to allow its characters to collapse into stereotypes. A terrorist pursues life as a liberal American intellectual, an arabic-speaking FBI agent struggles with issues of loyalty, and even Hubbard flirts with torturing an immigrant suspected of involvement with the terrorists. Identities are painfully intermingled. Hubbard leads one character through the lord's prayer as she dies, only to find that at her last exhalation, she calls on the name of Allah; few cinematic moments in recent memory have left me feeling so emotionally blindsided.