Babel (2006)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

On a completely unrelated hunch, on September 10th, I popped this film into my PS3, which until then, had been sitting on my shelf of things to watch for months.

I remember the film being heavy, and a bit of a bore, and hard to stomach, but even before the relevance of the Arab-winter (god I hate that phrase), the film had surprised me with insight, both cinematic and otherwise.

I loved the concept of no subtitles, which I realize might alienate some of the audience, which is exactly the point.  I understand Spanish and English, so I understood about half of the film, but watching the Middle-East sequences and the Japanese sequences makes me wonder what someone who speaks none of these languages would get out of it.  How about someone who speaks all of the languages.

I was half-tempted to put subtitles on a handful of times, but again that defaces the point of the film.  The film is shaped by what we understand and what we don't understand at the same time, even if we're not aware of it's tentacles.

Language aside, the other theme running rampant throughout the film, is the concept of serendipity.  In a bus full of people, why them?  In a country full of immigrants, why her?  It's a concept that drives the narrative forward in such a subtle and expressive way.

The editing is beautiful and harsh, and utterly unapologetic, which is essential in the course of the film.

The world of the film is a world we don't understand, and we're thrust on it, mercilessly, and the cinematography, art direction, and all other aspects showcase this methodically.  The film becomes intrinsically about the human condition, whatever that may be, seen through the eyes of human fear of the unknown.

For Iñarritu, film reality is about grittiness, lack of glamour, and lots of blood, but never in excess.  It is unrelenting, unapologetic, and beautiful and entrancing all the same.

Iñarritu bombards all your senses.  Allowing you to smell the goat skins curing in the hot sun, and then strips all of that in order for the audience to feel the utter isolation of the Japanese girl.  And it hurts.

Ultimately, the film becomes one of the most gut-wrenching things I've seen in quite some time.  And it hurts so good.

The acting never misses a beat, which is good, because it wouldn't work any other way.  It's a narrative so complex and replete with questions, that any film-aspect out of whack would have faltered the whole film and made it unbearable, and that's the beauty of the film that I missed on first viewing all those years ago.

The cinematography is beautifully executed and proper to its style and nature.

The camerawork is beautiful and well paced, and the Steadicam is used in such a convincing way, that it is the first time that it's use has not bothered me.

The sound design is phenomenal, not overpowering, but instead present just enough to illicit the necessary emotional responses.

The forgiveness of time for the sake of narrative is enamoring and wonderfully executed.

The sparse soundtrack is beautiful and entrancing, and the outro song by Chavela Vargas (you would recognize her as the old lady that sings to Salma Hayek in Frida) is so painful and proper that it hurts.

Alas, there is no way to watch this film non-prophetically in lieu of the death of the American Ambassador to Lybia.  And although I originally popped this film into my player on the 10th of September, serendipity intervened and I was unable to watch it until the next day.  And that changed the whole dynamic of the film.  Suddenly the news of the morning had been blasted on my screen, and I would have to deal with it.  But even without that background, the film stands solidly on it's own merits.

If you loved the destructive naivete of the characters in Atonement but left with too much of your soul intact, then Babel is the film for you.

Buy it now, it is worth it, even if you don't have the strength to watch it until later.  I feel it's one of those heavy films that time will slowly forget.

Sadly.