A clear September morning. Blue sky. Routine. Then—rupture.

A day that ends in ash, silence, and a permanently altered history.

It didn’t start with fire. It didn’t start with falling steel. It started with silence—the kind that feels harmless… until you realize it isn’t. That’s the thing they don’t tell you about - the HORROR of September 11, 2001.  

IX XI (Roman numerals for 9/11) is a new documentary told through the perspectives of 12 people who were unharmed but still affected by that grievously tragic day. Ranging from a skateboarder to a congregation leader, their accounts are meant to offer a fresh lens on a harrowing, traumatic event. But does the film deliver?

A resounding “no.” My frustration mounted almost immediately with this self-righteous hodgepodge of unnecessary, irrelevant drivel. From the first of many inconsequential voices with little connection to the subject, my irritation only grew. Is this a 9/11 film, or a Seinfeld documentary about nothing?  

Roz Chast, a talented cartoonist, dislikes visiting her parents because they live in Brooklyn. On September 11, while discussing the frenzy unfolding across the city in real time, they ended up arguing over whether to visit a nearby Middle Eastern restaurant to prove they were not anti-Muslim. As Chast recounted this almost fond memory of her parents’ dispute, I was struck by a speechless shock: the death hanging in the air across the river seemed to have no bearing on their sanctimonious need to perform inclusivity.

ABC News cameraman Stefan Springman commands much of the screen time, though his presence quickly shifts from intriguing to insufferable. His early-career backstory feels sluggish and unnecessary until the film finally reaches the day itself. Assigned to shoot a “Real Pearls vs. Fake Pearls” segment, everything changes after the second plane hits, prompting Springman to declare, “Terrorism!” Once his crew abandons the pearl story, he and Chris Cuomo rush downtown to chase what they call “the biggest story in NYC” that day. Between ABC’s pursuit of the most significant attack in modern American history and a videographer demanding $100,000 for capturing the ultimate money shot, the greed feels grotesquely unsettling. Springman’s laughter as he recounts these tasteless moments only makes his reaction harder to stomach.  

Restaurateur Amadeus Broger, who had dined at Windows on the World several days earlier, recalls his disdain for the “dirty” city of New York after moving to the United States from Tibet years before. He briefly touches on his business life and the drug addiction he developed in the aftermath of September 11. Alongside novelist Nell Zink, community organizer Kifah Shah, and UPS manager Kevin Langford, Broger’s account left me struggling to understand the purpose of these “stories,” or lack thereof. These were people far removed from the attack; some were not even in New York State.  

Actor Griffin Dunne offers a brief flash of anecdotal humor, recalling a phone call he received amid the chaos from a PR team asking whether he still planned to attend the premiere of Children of the Corn 2 that evening. While I felt the disconnect between his New York grit and the catastrophe unfolding on television in real time, his account raised a legitimate question: How was the attack perceived by those outside New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania? Were they affected at all? Was it business as usual throughout the afternoon?  

It is difficult to grasp the full impact of being near that pandemonium simply by watching it unfold across news reports. The events themselves felt almost surreal, like an inescapable nightmare. I speak from my own recollection, and from the one phone call that may have saved my life as I was en route to the Financial District to manage a new program press conference at 8:00am.  

Twelve accounts feel excessive for a documentary about such a brutal, irreversible day, and what unsettled me most was how distant and unrelatable many of them seemed. The cold detachment, grins, and repeated smiles made the film feel less like a documentary and more like a mockumentary, insulting those who were truly affected, whether they were nearby or halfway across the world. The most heartbreaking moment came from former real estate broker Michael Cuomo, who recalled a morning meeting with his star client, James, an editor for Playboy magazine. As they walked through a beautiful vacant apartment for sale, Michael pointed out its unobstructed view of the World Trade Center. James stared at the smoke and fire consuming the Twin Towers and began to sob: “I have friends who work there.”

That brief glimpse of genuine empathy and anguish made me hope the other testimonies in IX XI would carry similar emotional weight. They didn’t. Instead, the unimaginable loss and despair of that world-altering moment gradually curdled from sorrow into anger as if I was watching The Woman Who Wasn’t There. Pure exploitation from attention seekers who shrug it off as just another bad day.