GALLONS OF INK have been spilled regarding the events of a few autumns past, yet there have been practically no films dealing directly with the events of Sept. 11. Even the usual TV movie tragedy-of-the-week hacks have given the subject wide berth; the pain was still too fresh to warrant the quick turnaround of diluted "entertainment." After two years, however, we're finally starting to see the hucksters come out of hiding (via Showtime's Bush agitprop-airwave pollution DC 9/11: Time of Crisis), coincidentally as last year's Europe-sponsored cine-experiment September 11 washes onto our shores. The art project's conceit is gimmicky and simple: have 11 international filmmakers submit short films (all 11 minutes, 9 seconds, and 1 frame long) centering either directly or indirectly on that day. The result is, literally and figuratively, all over the map. Even the best tend to lack conviction about the tragedy itself – Shohei Immamura's piece on a World War II soldier who believes he's a snake or Sean Penn's fablelike tale of hope among the ashes prove that metaphorical musings are nothing without context. Meanwhile, the worst (Ken Loach's diatribe on U.S. involvement in Chile comes off merely as an insensitive, inappropriate rant; Claude Lelouch's too-sensitive tale seems syrupy) are full of passionate intensity and misguided best intentions. Like the subject itself, the film erratically runs the gamut of emotions from angry audacity to mournful reverence, though whether this portmanteau actually does offer an artistic perspective or is simply a different strain of exploitation, as some critics have contended, flip-flops with each new episode. The one vignette that comes close to both, Alejandro González Iñárritu's gruesomely effective collage of disembodied voices and glimpsed falling bodies, eschews linear thought for sheer horror. Its free-form directness stands out but can't quite make up for a mixed-bag groping for what still feels sickeningly ungraspable. (David Fear)