Babel

Up to now, I’ve only seen one other movie by director Alejandro González Iñárritu, and that was 21 Grams. Going into Babel, my mind right away jumped to that movie’s template: characters enduring terrible tragedy, falling and falling to rock bottom, until finally a chance for redemption presents itself. In some ways, Babel was very similar, but if I could call Babel one thing, it would be "mood piece", because so much of the movie you have to feel—particularly in the Japan storyline. And after leaving the theater, I honestly couldn’t pinpoint my emotions, because I was still letting all of what I had seen sink in.

As can be seen from the trailers, Babel is a composite piece, where multiple storylines (in this case, four) run parallel to each other, somehow connecting at various points within the film. Basically there were two Moroccan storylines: one with Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt, a husband and wife suffering marital woes, with Cate accidentally getting shot inside her tour bus by two Moroccan boys playing with a rifle from a distance; the other storyline shows the perspective of those two boys, from the moments before the shooting to its aftermath, and how it affects both them and their family. Back in the U.S., Brad and Cate’s children are being looked after by their Hispanic nanny, who has to choose between staying at home with the children while Cate is receiving medical treatment in Morocco, or taking the children into Mexico (because nobody else can look after them) so she can attend her son’s wedding. And off in Japan, we have a deaf-mute teenager trying to cope with her mother’s recent death, while somehow trying to make personal connections in the real world despite her deafness—in ways that quietly yet firmly show the depths of her loneliness and desperate longing for human contact.

And I think it was that storyline that I enjoyed the most. The final scene of the movie really held me and really stayed with me, as well as the character of Chieko. She stayed with me because I could genuinely feel her pain, her sadness, her loss, her confusion, her longing—all crippled by her deafness and her silence. The story of the Moroccan boys who shot Cate Blanchett was quite gripping, especially as they dealt with their guilt at having shot her and thinking they’d killed her. You could honestly feel the brotherly relationship between the two boys, the silent competition between them and the resentment held by the older brother when he discovers he’s a lesser shot than his younger brother. The wedding sequence down in Mexico was very impressive, the festive atmosphere very palpable. To contrast that, the scenes with the nanny running through the desert with the two children were surprisingly frightening, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crossing-the-desert scene quite like this one—filled with that silent, terrified sense of abandonment, the fruitless search for water and shelter in 100-degree heat, the desperation of having to leave someone behind in order to search for help.

The only problem I had was in the acting of Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. I don’t know if it’s because their characters were underdeveloped, but I felt that their characterization was paper-thin, that there wasn’t any substance added to make their characters sympathetic beyond the immediate circumstances (i.e., Cate’s being shot). To approach it from another angle, it just felt like Brad and Cate were playing themselves, and that any actor/actress could have played those roles. We were just supposed to assume that their marriage was on the rocks, that it was inevitably coming to a close, without really knowing why. (We are hinted that it may be due to their infant son’s crib death sometime prior, but it felt like more than that, and thus I feel it could have been fleshed out a bit more.)

That aside, the acting all around was very good, with some surprise appearances by various actors. Starting off with Clifton Collins, Jr., who I felt was a little underutilized here. His few moments as the border patrol cop were chilling, and I wish he had been given some additional screen time. He held my attention solidly as the no-nonsense border patrol cop, asking the pointed questions, very easily disarming Amelia (the nanny) and her irresponsible nephew when they try to re-enter the country. Apparently the actor who played said nephew is also very well known, but I wasn’t familiar with him prior to Babel. And smack me upside the head and call me stupid, but I didn’t even recognize Michael Peña (who had a very heart-warming role in Crash) when he appeared on screen!

I’ve already gotten wind of some possible Oscar buzz for Babel, and I can honestly say that I hope it gets some Academy recognition. I’m undecided if it’s Best Picture material, but I seriously hope it gets a Best Director nod for Alejandro González Iñárritu, a Best Cinematography nod (the camerawork and visuals were stunning, especially at the Japanese dance club), and (hope hope!) a Best Supporting Actress nod for Rinko Kikuchi. For a role as tough as hers had to be, where she was silent throughout the entire movie and could only communicate through sign language, body language, and heartfelt emotions, she executed it all brilliantly. Just look at the scene where she broke down in front of the detective, or her final scene with her father. Utterly fantastic. (I’d draw a connection to Holly Hunter’s deaf-mute role in The Piano—which won her an Oscar—but it’s been too long since I saw that movie to genuinely compare the roles.)

In the final analysis, we’re left with the feeling that redemption doesn’t always come to us, and when it does, it comes from unlikely spots (like from within ourselves), and sometimes it comes from extreme circumstances that push us to our breaking points (like Cate’s being shot in the desert and Brad frantically trying to seek help). Yet when all is said and done, Babel does impart one very important idea to us: we’re all human, every last one of us . . . and sadly, we sometimes forget that. A 9.5 out of 10, with my fingers crossed for it at the Oscars.