Mark Reviews Movies: 7500

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 17, 2020

There's a question most of us probably haven't considered: How long will it be after September 11, 2001 until someone uses the hijacking of an airplane, with the intention of weaponizing the craft, as the central premise for a wholly fictional movie? One probably hasn't thought of it, because the idea just seemed like one of those we collectively agreed was off limits. The answer, though, turns out to be just shy of 19 years, and the film is 7500.

One could—and people likely will—question the judgment of screenwriters Patrick Vollrath, who also directed, and Senad Halilbasic for making a movie with this particular narrative. The question of taste is amplified by the fact that the premise is only a means of generating a series of suspenseful and psychologically shattering situations for its hero, the co-pilot of the plane, who has to remain locked in the cockpit while the hijackers employ assorted threats and execute considerable violence in their attempts to make him open the door—in order, of course, to cause even more violence and death.

Is the film uncomfortable as a result of its setup? It most certainly is. Is that feeling of discomfort compounded by the filmmakers' almost flippant use of this loaded premise for the primary purpose of creating thrills? It also is.

Can we simply dismiss the film or its obvious virtues as a piece of filmmaking because we're uncomfortable with both the story and its goals? Bear in mind, I cannot answer that question for anyone but myself. From that individual perspective, the film is too unique in its presentation, too smartly crafted, and too thoughtful in regards to its actually storytelling to reject the film on account of its dubious marriage of subject matter and intentions.

What can be said, though, is that Vollrath and Halilbasic's thrills are more of the cerebral, moral, and ethical varieties, so the film never feels deliberately exploitative. Indeed, the fact that the narrative involves so many difficult questions about the horrific realities of this scenario means that the filmmakers probably understood the potential issues with their premise in the first place.

In other words, they've reconciled the questions of taste with their own storytelling goals as well as can be expected. Take, for example, the actual setting of this story, which only briefly moves from outside the confinement of the cockpit of a commercial passenger plane (During an opening montage, we see security footage of the hijackers as they blend in and prepare within the airport, and the final shot pushes back about three or four feet into the plane's cabin, still looking toward the cockpit). Otherwise, the camera remains inside the small, cramped space, which feels like a fortress once the hijackers' operation begins and, as with the potential for all fortresses, starts to feel like a prison as soon as the protagonist becomes increasingly powerless to stop what's happening.

He's Tobias Ellis (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), the first officer for this flight from Berlin to Paris, who's an American living in the German capital with his girlfriend Gökce (Aylin Tezel), who's onboard as a flight attendant, and their young son, currently staying with his grandmother. Also in the cockpit is pilot Michael (Carlo Kitzlinger), who chats with Tobias (so we get the basic background information about the protagonist) and lets his co-pilot go over all the pre-flight details (so we get a sense of the character's adherence to the rules and focus on the details).

In addition to limiting the backdrop to the cockpit, Vollrath more or less allows the story to unfold in real time, which gets us into a certain relaxed rhythm before, during, and shortly after takeoff. We know something is amiss when, through a monitor showing the view from just above the cockpit door, a foot appears to be holding back a dividing curtain.

When the pilot unlocks the door to let a flight attendant inside, a man rushes her. There's a fight to push him and three other hijackers back, during which Michael is repeatedly stabbed with a broken bottle, and soon, Tobias is left alone in the cockpit with a dying pilot and an unconscious attacker. The other hijackers want inside, and they threaten to start killing passengers if Tobias doesn't open the door.

There are two main reasons this material works as well as it does—or could, depending on how much one holds on to those issues of the filmmakers' judgment in the foundation of the story. The first is the general technique on display, as Vollrath uses the restricted confines of this space to create a claustrophobic nightmare of isolation and helplessness. Tobias' only contact with a world beyond the cockpit is a phone to just outside the door, where the hijackers offer no intention of negotiating or compromising, and the radio to an air traffic controller, who can only offer a runway to make an emergency landing and condolences when the hijackers follow through on their threats.

We're trapped with Tobias, not only in the confined space, but also in the emotional turmoil of knowing there is nothing that can be done. In that regard, the film's second most notable virtue is Gordon-Levitt's performance, which finds its bearings, not in reacting to the terror and horror of what the character witnesses, but in his resolve to maintain a steady head as the inevitable happens again and again.

That internalized sense of forced calm and attempting to remain psychologically distant in the face of all this becomes story's driving, dramatic force. The restraint of 7500, in its form and its central performance, may not alleviate all of the concerns about the narrative, but it definitely puts that narrative in an intimate and challenging context.

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