And now, thanks to Jason Bailey, we have five minutes of one of the all-time, world-champion cinematic bellowers, John Goodman, shouting and yelling and screaming and, well, getting really mad. And it’s glorious.
Watching those buildings crumble and take the lives of thousands of Americans is something akin to watching a snuff film. Reliving it all—our last moments of cheery obliviousness, the confusion of those first reports, the utter despair of watching those buildings crumble—is borderline masochistic. Isn’t it?