BABEL. Dir. Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu. 2006

This is a highly intelligent, deeply affecting film. Shot in documentary style, it offers the realism of unforced observation, yet it is brilliantly arranged and choreographed. Innaritu has achieved actors’ performances which appear absolutely natural, and understated, and which give their characters enormous dignity. The result is so accomplished that the unfolding story is totally absorbing.

A sequence of events is set off by an accident when two brothers are arguing over the distance a rifle can fire; they hit a tour bus. The introduction of the rifle into the Moroccan community suggests corruption of a way of life, and the film shows how far-reaching are the repercussions of this mishap. Innaritu plays with timing and fate, guns and panic. People are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and characters respond differently when under pressure. Only the Englishman is unsympathetically portrayed, when his fear and suspicion overcome any compassion. Social divides and the difficulty of communicating effectively and clearly create a remoteness which is emotional not geographical, but this disconnectedness is not alienating; the audience seems to be willing the characters towards resolution, reconciliation and trust.

Innaritu tackles grief, adolescence, the loss of innocence, and family relationships, but the central theme is dislocation, and its accompanying alienation, misunderstanding and incomprehension, between people and between cultures. Individuals are apart from their countries, are unable to communicate with those they most love, are at odds with authority, and are utterly understandable and recognisable. Babel provides a huge range of characters from a wide world, yet we can identify with each and every one, with their desires and their frustrations. The effect is intensely powerful, utterly compelling and a triumph of storytelling. Flawless.

Comments

HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. Dir Mike Leigh. 2008

Simple, retarded asthmatic gasps and giggles her way through this nonsensical film from Mike Leigh. 30 year old Poppy’s arrested development is masked by her carer who provides meals and stability. This form of care in the community works well so that Poppy is able to extend her adolescence in this flat-sharing arrangement by climbing into bed with her carer and exhibiting teenage tactile behaviour. Her flatmate is tolerant, even when getting no answers as to where Poppy has been and whether or not she’s ok. To Poppy’s credit she holds down a job. Inconceivably a primary school teacher, she is left in a position of responsibility with young children for long periods without supervision. However, classroom activities are restricted to making masks out of brown paper bags in case anyone thought primary school teaching involved real work. Leigh raises the possibility of serious subject matter when a boy begins to bully others. Without parental involvement, a Socia

ACCATONE! Dir Piers Paulo Pasolini. 1961

Accatone! (1961) is the first film by director Piers Paulo Pasolini and re-relased as part of a box set of his work. Accatone! features a pitiless, self-serving, manipulative young pimp living in the slums and rubble of Rome, whose lassitude is infectious. Images of his death recur throughout the film and he seems barely living. The exclamation mark in the title may be there to try and wake him up. Pasolini shot the film on the streets, using the people he found there rather than professional actors. The effect is a slow moving realism which casts the viewer as reluctant voyeur; it is impossible to gain any distance from the unrelenting sadism of hollow machismo. Seeing this film fifty years after it was made, the misogyny in this film is deeply disturbing; women are either Madonna, virgin or whore. Accatone says prostitution is ‘a mother’s situation’ which provides the mixed message that it’s selfless and necessary for survival, yet he and his friends view whores as trash; to

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 23

Hot Bodies The heat is intense today. My car is blue with a black interior and the sun on the metal is fierce and punishing. Even with the window open there is no relief. The sunroof has to stay closed because the ferocity of the burning sun is beyond bearing. I’m showing a friendly, chatty elderly couple round a bungalow in suburban bungalow-land where there is no sound but the churning of some piece of workman’s equipment nearby. I stay with the plot all round the house, answering questions, being helpful, making suggestions, until we come to the front bedroom and I turn to admire the view. Across the road are two workmen on the flat roof of a garage. One of them is facing us, wearing a baseball cap and bent slightly forward. All I can see is his perfect flat stomach; so flat that, as he bends, there are neat creases in the brown skin, as neat as pencil lines. He has not an ounce of fat covering his slim, naked upper body and trickles of sweat make tracks through the dirt on th

Just For Lookin' Thru

Search This Blog