Inarritu’s film disappeared from local theatres a few weeks ago, only to reappear after its “sweep” of the Golden Globes—an obvious attempt by Paramount to garner its film more support for an increasingly inevitable Best Picture win, though a shallow attempt at that. (This morning’s news was disheartening, to say the least, though a few suprises made rising early worthwhile.) And after watching it torn asunder on this site, yet praised on many others, I reluctantly swallowed my pride and paid matinee prices for 142 minutes of three poorly linked plotlines that, in all honesty, were just plain boring.
With other multi-story films like Crash or Magnolia, there is an interconnecting idea, an underlying force that joins all plotlines together into one moral or theme. Babel lacks a theme. Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett portray a married couple vacationing in Africa to escape the death of a child and what we assume is the infidelity of Pitt’s character. Their children are being watched over by Amelia, a Mexican nanny whose son will soon be getting married across the border. Rinko Kikuchi is Chieko, a deaf Japanese girl who doesn’t fit in; as we later learn, her mother committed suicide years ago. Soon, Cate Blanchett’s Susan is shot by a Moroccan boy trying to outshine his brother, Amelia’s son ditches her and the children in the California desert to elude Border Patrol agents, and Chieko attempts to seduce a police detective. Other than the obvious—a gun, Susan and Richard’s children—never is there a great revelation that these characters are connected. It’s as though screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga decided to combine three separate, unfinished scripts into a feature film.
To be honest, I had decided halfway through Inarritu’s film that I would refer to it thereafter as Babble to highlight its incessant, pointless screenplay; passive-aggressive and immature, yes, but it was how I felt. Unfortunately, certain members of my local audience had other ideas—namely, that any attempt at depicting Mexican characters sympathetically was amusing rather than socially poignant or necessary. An old couple to my right sighed derisively throughout the entire Mexican marriage ceremony; an older woman to my left laughed hysterically as Amelia stumbled through the Southern California desert in search of help. I tried frantically to ignore them, but after another elderly couple a few rows ahead stood up and left I abandoned any hope. Then again, who could blame them? For a movie that teaches universal tolerance and understanding with utmost, albeit failed urgency, I found it alarming that Gael Garcia Bernal’s Santiago was depicted as either intoxicated, lying, or killing a chicken, especially after he claimed in an NPR interview that he avoids stereotypical roles. (On the other hand, Adriana Barraza’s Amelia, while being the stereotypical illegal nanny to a suburban American couple, requires genuine acting, though I could’ve done without the strange seduction scene.) Nonetheless, Rinko Kikuchi steals the film; forced to speak through her eyes and hands and, much of the time, in some form of undress, she weaves heartbreak, vulnerability, and desperation into the fabric of every scene.
Leo’s Thoughts, which are better organized (and much more up-front) than mine.
by Adam Balz | Source: Paramount 35MM Theatrical Print
23 Jan 2007 10:03 AM | Submit Comment
