An essentially and emotionally-dishonest film about grieving that is both self-indulgent and whining. This makes for good political propaganda, but weak, one-sided drama.
The reason Whites find 9/11 so difficult to come-to-terms with is because they refuse to face-up to the reason the event occurred in the first place; meaning they always stop thinking clearly before reaching the final moment of self-awareness and self-acceptance.
Trying to present the drama from the point-of-view of a child is a moral cop-out; compounded by the fact that the adults here also claim 9/11 made no sense, when they really do know better than they pretend because everyone truly knows where their own shoes pinch.
Despite the claim - made explicitly here - that we have to face our fears, Whites refuse to accept what all ethnic minorities in White cultures do: That terrorism is a direct response to White supremacy - domestic and foreign. The multicultural nature of the casting does not evade this central issue since Whites know perfectly well that it was White culture being attacked - and no other. Now Whites know what it is like and like it they do not.
This White attempt to share pain never works because ethnic minorities do not feel the same pain for the same reason, since the latter possess a greater understanding - from experience - as to why anyone would wish to attack an Institutionally-Racist country like the USA.
Minorities also know that one of the worst characteristics of White culture is that when Whites are successful, they do not share their success with non-Whites. So the attempt at pain-sharing is merely a hypocritical desire for the special privileges inherent in White supremacy: That pain is for other people.
To accept all of this - honestly - would mean Whites having to face the basic underpinnings of their culture, as well as the fact that the War on Terror is not a Clash of Civilizations, but the terrible revelation that Whites lack a civilization worthy of the name.
There is no insight here into either traumatic loss or the openness of childhood. A great pity since there should have been a treasure trove of humanity here rather than the obvious White propaganda we are presented with. Slaughterhouse Five it ain’t because this movie thinks a hug is the ultimate expression of the human soul.
All the performances here are excellent and engaging - even the not-terribly-precocious leading boy. But without the shared humanity necessary for great drama, this is no more than a coyote-like whining at the moon where White people say their emotions in words rather than express themselves in anything approaching a universal human language. A drama suggesting the dying days of a Western culture that is pretty on the surface but empty inside.