November 6, 1998 | Director Edward Zwick balances popcorn-movie heroics with more substantial food for thought in The Siege, a surprisingly persuasive drama that considers the ramifications of martial law as a response to terrorist attacks in a major American city. Trouble is, there’s a good chance that any discussion of the film’s merit as art or entertainment will get drowned out by heated debates over Zwick’s pushing of hot-button issues.
Perhaps you’ve already heard the first rumblings of preemptive strikes against The Siege. Or maybe you’ve seen the trailers, which indicate the movie will focus on the activities of a terrorist cell — specifically, a group of Muslim extremists — in New York City. Before actually seeing the completed movie, various anti-defamation groups have issued impassioned complaints about what they fear will be a one-sided portrayal of murderous Muslim fanatics and their Arab-American sympathizers. Leaflet-distributing campaigns have been promised, other organized protests are likely.
Given the dearth of Hollywood movies that show Arab-Americans in general and Muslims in particular as anything but terrorists, one can sympathize with this readiness to expect the worst. But give Zwick his due: The Siege is by no means a great movie, but it does try to be fair and reasonably balanced. More to the point, it doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of so much righteous indignation. To be sure, the plot is propelled by the havoc caused by Muslim fanatics. But there’s a provocative twist in the tale.
Early in The Siege, American military operatives seize an Arab sheik who is suspected of supporting international terrorism. In retaliation, the sheik’s followers launch a campaign of terror in New York, demanding the release of their leader in return for an end to the violence. A Brooklyn bus blows up. Massive explosions kill dozens at a Broadway theater and a public school.
Despite the best efforts of an FBI terrorist task force led by a hard-charging special agent, Anthony Hubbard (Denzel Washington), the perpetrators remain at large. When a suicide bomber drives into a federal building, causing a disaster on the order of what happened in Oklahoma City, anxious New York citizens and Washington politicians demand drastic measures. Troops and tanks appear on the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn, as General William Devereaux (Bruce Willis) undertakes the task of restoring order through martial law.
The catch is, Devereaux isn’t the hero of the piece. Indeed, as The Siege progresses toward a predictable but compelling conclusion, what the general does in the name of law and order makes a bad situation dreadfully worse.
Working from a screenplay he co-wrote with Lawrence Wright and Menno Meyjes, Zwick (who also directed Glory and Courage Under Fire) spins a cautionary fable about the dangers of sacrificing freedom to ensure safety. Claiming absolute power to support and defend the Constitution, Devereaux suspends due process and herds hundreds of Arab-Americans into detention camps. Even the teen-age son of Frank Haddad (Tony Shalhoub), Hubbard’s Arab-American partner, is rounded up and incarcerated behind barbed wire. (If you find yourself thinking of Japanese-Americans who were treated in similar fashion during World War II — well, that’s exactly what Zwick wants you to think about.) Torture and execution are used as interrogation tools. The longer the siege continues, the more dangerously determined Devereaux grows.
Don’t misunderstand: The Siege isn’t merely a civics-textbook lesson, or an anti-military nightmare scenario. At its frequent best, it is a cracking good thriller, even though it skimps on transitional detail in its final third. And the cast — including Annette Bening as an ambiguous employee of the National Security Agency — is uniformly first-rate. Willis is especially impressive as he maneuvers his way through a sketchy and often contradictory role. It may not be enough to appease the movie’s most vocal critics, but Willis’ portrayal ably underscores Zwick’s message that fanaticism isn’t limited to any one religious or ethnic group.
