Paradoxically, it’s Torres’s refusal to see beyond her personal experience that gives “American Widow” its power. Torres recounts her alienation from friends, many of whom get to the “enough is enough” phase with her a few months after Eddie’s death. And she flinches at the bullying commentators, from the political left to the right, who portrayed 9/11 widows as publicity-hungry media vultures.
“American Widow” is particularly barbed in its depiction of the incompetence, and sometimes the callousness, of aid organizations and government agencies assisting the victims. In one scene a haggard American Red Cross representative tells Torres the organization will contact her “when we can” about flying Eddie’s relatives from Colombia for the funeral, which is only a few days away. You could argue that these people were stretched to the limit. You could also argue that there are some jobs simply too sensitive to mismanage ”” a standard embodied here by a competent and compassionate F.B.I. agent who steps in and takes charge after Torres’s encounter with the Red Cross.
“American Widow” is a contrary beast for its depiction of a series of missed connections in a time venerated for the way it unified people. These incidents are sometimes unbearably moving, as when the smile of a maternity-shop clerk deflates after she’s told Torres is shopping for a black dress.