Calderon de la Barca notwithstanding, life is not a dream after
all. Yet as scripter Guillermo Arriaga's notes in "21 Grams" (the
weight a human body allegedly loses at the moment of death),
life goes on. "Life goes on" could be the tagline of this risk-
taking venture which, while respectful of the ability of its
audience to leave the theater with not all loose ends tied, is just
marginally on the better side of pretentious. A philosophic work
photographed by a hand-held camera punctuating gritty scenes
with bleached-out colors, "21 Grams" is heavy on emotional
power, appropriately restrained with violence, and inhabited by
astonishing performances especially of Naomi Watts and
Benicio Del Toro.
This story, musing about life, love and death is given added
complexity by its telling in a non-chronological sequence,
confusing at first but effective in helping the audience to soak in
deeds and consequences while giving us plenty of ammunition
to write to New York Times' ethicist Randy Cohen about its
themes: What is the good life? Should vengeance be taken
against people responsible for the criminal deaths of others
even if such acts of revenge will do nothing to bring the victims
back to life? Are some acts so repulsive that real redemption is
not possible not even the born-again protestations of killers
behind bars who recognize their horrendous misdeeds and are
prepared to atone daily for the rest of their lives?
In directing this challenging feature, Alejandro Gonzalez
Inarritu whose "Amores Perros" explored divergent lives that
intersect in a Mexico City car crash breaks the story down in a
similar manner, tracing several different characters and their
relationships, showing how their lives are interconnected by a
web of mostly tragic events. He opens on Paul Rivers (Sean
Penn), in a hospital with mortal heart disease and expected to
die within a month. Rivers's wife, Mary (Charlotte Gainsbourg),
is intent on having a baby with her dying husband via artificial
insemination.
Though the characters live in and around Alburquerque, you'd
not expect Mary and Paul ever to meet Cristina Peck (Naomi
Watts), a former drug addict now settled down with her architect
husband (Danny Huston) and taking care of two children. In yet
another seemingly disconnected scene, Jack Jordan (Benicio
Del Toro), an alcoholic who is in and out of jail, has been born
again. Tattooed with religious emblems, he is married to
Marianne (Melissa Leo), who is frequently appalled by Jack's
literally wearing his religion on his sleeve. In one episode, Jack
and Marianne's young son hits his sister. Instead of chastising
the boy, Jack insists that the little girl, in effect, turn the other
cheek and accept another blow from the bullying little man.
What these characters have in common, what gets them to
meet and relate to one another, is their closeness to death, their
own or that of someone close to them. Paul Rivers needs a
heart transplant or he's dead within a month. Jack appears
close to suicide and, in effect, makes a bad attempt to do
himself in while in prison. Cristina alternates between
depression and rage over the violent death of her husband and
two children.
The individuals, confused as most of us occasionally are but
to an exceptional degree because of actions that will determine
who will live and who will die, perform well as an ensemble.
Naomi Watts, however, stands out as a woman who alternates
vulnerability and strength, urging vengeance on the man who
killed three members of her family in a hit-and-run accident. In
her best role since the amazing "Mulholland Drive," Ms. Watts
runs the gamut of human emotions, overpowering both those in
a position to help her and those who have committed egregious
offenses against her family. Sean Penn is fine, as usual, but
somehow does not come across as riveting as he is in "Mystic
River."
When Jack insists that God knows when a single hair on an
individual's head moves, he implies that all actions stem from
Divine providence and that human beings are merely cogs. We
in the audience must determine to what extent the characters in
the film and, by extension, all of us, are victims of fate beyond
our control, and to what extent we are the creators of our own
destiny.
Copyright © 2003 Harvey Karten