Sonnet #30

The teenage boy that seems to still be in my brain noted that in roman numerals this sonnet is XXX, suggesting a racy text and certainly not the reflective piece which comes with a sense of finality and loss that the closing two lines cannot bring joy too, so much as simply make it hurt a little less briefly. The short film takes the terrible sense of loss that comes through every line, and makes it more cutting by linking it to 9/11. Set at The Sphere – the piece of artwork which was badly damage by debris from the attacks but generally survived to be moved to a nearby park, the main character's thoughts are clearly linked to people he lost in the attacks.

This is played out really well on the face of actor Cox, who doesn't push the emotion but rather carries a deadened sense of being beaten down, rather than wailing and flailing – it is an important heart of the film and the close-up on his face is where a lot of it happens. The delivery of the text is equally well balanced in terms of its tone – the voice carries weight, not easy emotion. The slight uplift of the final two lines is given greater weight by the physical appearance of one of the lost but, more significantly, the pull back to the Freedom Tower as a symbol of the ongoing spirit and the sense that things are not totally lost and dark forever. Personally I felt that the film pushed this a bit too far – although I think this was because I had taken more to the sense of loss in the piece, so the move to higher ground caught me off guard; but it works even with my reservation.

The music used works very well with both aspects though; the M83 track feeds the sorrow but also rises at just the right moment, complimenting it very well. Very well shot, and with a meaty and totally convincing turn from Cox, this is really a very fine example of the project using the city, the text, and the delivery to really bring the words to life today – which ultimately is what it is all about.