Walking out, my reaction to Oliver Stone’s “World Trade Center’ could not have been anymore different than the one I had after watching Paul Greengrass’ “United 93.” What each film did to me was entirely unique, and even though they both held in common a tragic day that will beat sadly within the hearts of so many around the world, this time around I couldn’t help but be a tad under whelmed. It’s 9/11 as soap opera, and while some will undoubtedly find that to be okay I for one was more than a tad disappointed.

Still, even though this is exactly what Stone’s film is “World Trade Center” isn’t remotely a failure. There are some stunning moments here, the director turning down his usual directorial flamboyance and shows awe-inspiring restraint bringing some of this true story to the big screen. And yet, much of it is surprisingly listless and distancing, and no matter how harrowing the central arc is this is still a major problem to try and overcome.

Granted, that central arc is a heartbreaker. The film follows two New York Port Authority police officers, Sergeant John McLoughlin (Nicolas Cage) and Will Jimeno (Michael Peña), as they and their team go into the towers to help rescue survivors. Instead, the suddenly find themselves trapped under tons of rubble, incased almost to their very necks in debris. For strenuous hours they survived under tons of wreckage before finally being heroically pulled to safety, their families sitting at home without the first clue as to what was happening.

Unfortunately, because we already know the outcome the suspense of the situation is unavoidably diluted. No matter how skilled Stone is behind the camera, and recent mistakes like “Alexander” aside the man is a certified master, it’s hard to craft too much in the way of tension when your main characters sit buried and immobile for nearly three quarters of the movie’s two-plus hour running time. As good as both actors are, there really isn’t much for them to do other than lie there and whimper in excruciating pain.

The thing is, I can’t exactly say pulling away from them to focus on the families helps matters. I understand the structure and intent of Andrea Berloff’s carefully layered screenplay, yet I still couldn’t get past the fact every time Stone cut to either McLaughlin’s or Jimeno’s loved ones the whole enterprise started to feel like an expertly acted episode of “Days of Our Lives.” These scenes are maudlin and antiseptic, almost like they were thrown in to distract from the inhuman horror of that day many of us still have trouble talking about.

Thank the heavens then for Maggie Gyllenhaal. She plays Jimeno’s pregnant wife Allison, and even though here scenes reek of cliché she still manages to enliven each and every one of them with her fiery and fiercely passionate performance. For me, it is a moment at a red light that hit me the hardest, Stone and Gyllenhaal making the inhuman chaos seem as crystalline and as humanly passionate as any I could have possibly imagined. The actress is magnificent, and of all the film’s strength her performance is the on thing I will remember above all else.

Granted, there is plenty else the director gets right, not the least of which are the eerie opening minutes showcasing the Port Authority officers preparing for their day. Stone sets an ominously serene tone right from the very first second. There is a majestic hush before the storm that twists and tears your stomach into winding pretzel knots of almost unbearable tension, my palms sweating profusely long before the reports of the first plane hitting the towers hot the police band airwaves.

But it doesn’t stop there. After the towers are hit, the journey of McLoughlin and his men to the scene is almost dreamlike in its surreal intensity, charred paper flying through the air like burning snow while aeronautical fuel mixed with blood falls from the sky like miniature droplets rain. Better, aura of confusion trying to break these officers’ steely resolve is genuinely palpable, making their split-second decisions to enter into the faltering towers and rescue as many survivors as they could all the more heroic.

That McLoughlin or Jimeno (or the fallen members of their team for that matter) ultimately didn’t save anyone, didn’t even make it out of the lower levels, before the World Trade Center sealed them in a concrete and steel tomb doesn’t lessen the majesty of what they tried to do. These men were – are – heroes, and far be it from me to call any person with the guts to selflessly risk it all to save the lives of others anything less than otherwise.

In all fairness, until the towers finally crumble all the way to the ground “World Trade Center” borders on brilliance. Everything is seen from the eyes of the police officers on the ground, the strum and drag of the buildings crumbling around them creating a you-are-there intimacy that chilled me to the very bone. If nothing else, the picture is a triumph of sound and production design, the creaks, cranks and clanks of shifting debris as horrifying and scary as any moment in any horror movie probably ever made.

How can it be, then, that Stone’s picture confounds, vexes and ultimately disappoints me so very much? I just found it to be increasingly difficult as things progressed to stay interested. Intriguing characters like Dave Karnes (Michael Shannon), a former Marine who felt compelled by God to go to Ground Zero and search for survivors, and Scott Strauss (Stephen Dorff), a rescue worker who climbed inside the rumble sans protective gear to free Jimeno, come and go, exasperatingly never staying around long enough to make near as much of an impression as I would have liked.

As things went on, it became more and more clear to me was that the story I wanted told wasn’t the one of the families sitting at home, but of the men and women working desperately to try and free their comrades from the wreckage before it was too late. There is a visceral energy to that tale, a powerfully hopeful communal sermon proclaiming to the world from the bully pulpit the glories we as humans can accomplish when we take the time to work together. Make no mistake, this message does come through, I just wanted it to be louder and clearer then what comes across here.

Still, much like “United 93” (which really was phenomenal, easily the best film so far this year) “World Trade Center” is ultimately about the subtext. It is easy to see why right wing conservative are uniting around this thing (an irony I’m sure which hasn’t been lost on ultra-liberal Stone), yet at the same time it’s not like their political viewpoints are rallied around. If anything, after watching this I came away upset and more than a little bit dismayed at our current administration than at any other time in my life, the goodwill and support generated around the world just moments after this tragic day completely lost in an unfocused and mismanaged series of events that have now turned so many in the global community against us.

But that’s what’s behind the curtain, Stone savvy enough of a filmmaker to make sure his political musings are displayed subtly and without his usual bullhorn this time out. And, in the end, “World Trade Center” is not so much about tragedy as it is about triumph, and the propitious notes of unity and heroic togetherness it sows are definitely worth applauding.

Looking back and remembering those moments is a profound reminder of what can be accomplished when differences are set aside and we decide to speak with one voice aimed at a common good. Whether or not we can ever get back to that point is a completely different, and much more tragic, story better left for another, far more depressing, day.