Skip to main content

BABEL. Dir. Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu. 2006

Image result for movie images babel


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.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

OLD JOY. Dir Kelly Reichardt. 2005

Dropout Kurt arrives in town and calls up his old friend, earnest father-to-be Mark to suggest a camping trip out in the forest, away from the city. They haven’t seen each other for some time and the film suggests a desire for intimacy as well as a quest for peace. Something of a lost soul, Kurt is emotional and, at times, to be pitied. He lives outside society, in a world of new age type retreats and travels, which seem to have left him out on the margins. In contrast, Mark has a home and a pregnant partner, and tunes his car radio in to phone-ins with much loud chat about the state of society in America but he seems only half alive. They drive out of town, with the camera as passenger, which gazes out of the car window while a gorgeous soundtrack by Yo La Tengo sets a mellow mood. The use of extended silence makes me a little uneasy; it’s hard to get away from memories of Deliverance, and a sense of apprehension. In the city, the glass of the car windows insulates us...
Post a Comment
Read more

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 17

Good Evening Mr Bond There are two couples to take round a little house on a new estate on the edge of town and I have strict instructions to make sure that the cat must not get out. I’m dreading this because I imagine a swift little beast slipping through our legs as soon as we open the front door. There’s no sign of it though and we all squeeze in, afraid to open the door wider than our sideways body widths, and close it with relief. Monsieur Chat peeps seductively round a door frame leading into the living room, delicately places a furry paw onto the hall carpet and sways towards us, allowing his body to brush lingeringly against the paintwork. Truly, this is Blofeldt’s cat. Condemned to a life indoors, his only pleasures are sensory. He is brushed, smoothed, fondled, and caressed. The world beyond the window; a world of territorial disputes, raking claws and screams in the night, is unknown to him. He slinks towards me, arching his back with pleasure and kinking his tail in...
Post a Comment
Read more

Use and Abuse

Sitting outside in the evening sun with ice chinking in my gin and tonic, our chatter is interrupted by the mildly irritating, feeble piping of a child’s recorder. Five or so minutes later a little boy, aged about seven, is planted by the entrance door to the theatre, and carries on blowing down the damned thing. A woman folds a towel and places it by his feet. The boy’s little sister is placed alongside her brother; she’s about five. The woman walks up and down the piazza with a mobile phone clamped to her ear, talking incessantly. Sometimes she comes and sits with a man but they do not go near the two children. The children are pale; they look miserable, and keep going over to the man and woman, but are brought back to the theatre door. It is not obvious the first time he does it, but the man makes a flamboyant gesture of bending forward, dropping coins onto the folded towel, giving a thumbs up sign to the little boy, smiling broadly and then walking away. He seemed to be a man in th...
Post a Comment
Read more