If “World Trade Center,” the new movie by Oliver Stone, were a better film, it would not be so moving. Mr. Stone, normally the most overbearing of directors, seems to have anticipated that what audiences want from a film on this subject is not impressive acting or striking compositions, but a direct, straightforward reminder of a story they already know; not a work of art, in short, but a memorial service. When I saw the film, and listened to people weeping in the dark, it seemed to me that we were less an audience than a congregation, seeking the kind of communal purgation usually sought in churches and synagogues.

Mr. Stone makes this point explicitly in “World Trade Center,” when he juxtaposes a scene in a nearly empty church with a suburban street where every house is lit up with the blue glow of a TV screen. Ever since the morning of September 11, 2001, Americans have looked to secular culture — to television and newspapers, architecture and theater, films and books — to give the events of that day a meaning.