"21 Grams," is exactly what a heavy drama should be. It's engrossing, poetic, intense (with little violence), emotionally enveloping, in-your-face and, at the same time, uplifting and depressing.
Oh, and it's damn good.
Director and writer Alejandro González Iñárritu has crafted an involving story with a master's touch, stylistically snaring you into a world of loss, affirmation, guilt, doubt and acceptance.
The film revolves around three central and completely different characters whose lives intersect and are forever changed in the aftermath of a tragic car accident.
Sean Penn is riveting as Paul Rivers, a mathematician who will die within a month if he doesn't get a heart transplant. Unhappy with a marriage that uses his condition as the glue still binding him to his wife, Paul waits patiently for death, his hope slowly dwindling.
Even more convincing is Naomi Watts as Cristina Peck, a former addict now happily married with two daughters in suburbia. Watts' character and her transformation - including bouts of depression and substance abuse - prove the buzz around her as the "next big thing" following "Mulholland Dr." was well founded.
Rounding out the terrific cast is Benicio Del Toro, a heavily tattooed career convict turned born-again Christian who's trying to raise his family and make it in a world that will not accept him. Volunteering as a faith counselor for troubled youth, the character's devotion to God is equally inspiring and terrifying as his misconceptions of faith often lead to explosions of emotion, violence and self-destructive penance.
That's what you're given in the setup, and to tell you more would rob you of the many surprises that line the path. The car accident's impact on the three involved characters is so profound that every turn the film takes is in an unexpected direction - drugs, violence, hope and loathing all converge in a brilliantly conceived explosion of emotion.
Iñárritu first turned heads with the gritty and impressive "Amores perros," which drew a number of praises. "21 Grams" solidifies this, placing him in the new category of directors whose films come to life, like novels with intricate stories and attention to detail. The director's whole style is fresh, though in the beginning of the film the breaks in continuity are a bit confusing.
Every shot shows an artist's love of attention, be it an early shot of Penn sitting by the empty pool of a run-down motel stroking a gun or Del Toro screaming his troubles before an altar in an empty church. Shot in gritty earth tones with realistic camera work, the whole film gives you the feel that you're on the ride with the characters as you slowly learn of their connection to one another.
The only thing trumping the director is his actors, all of whom turn in powerful and award-worthy performances.
Penn's mathematician oozes with the kind of juxtaposed emotions you'd expect from a terminally ill man. As the film progresses and delves deeper into his actions, Penn just keeps getting better. There's a sadness behind his smile and a fireball behind his calm demeanor.
Del Toro's troubled Jack Jordan is equally well layered. All of his actions and accomplishments are credited to God's will - including his family and a raffle prize. But when trouble comes calling, he finds himself questioning God's love and old habits resurface.
And Watt's suburban housewife spirals through emotions as her life is forever changed. Watts, a relative newcomer with skill to spare, would steal every scene were it not for the presence of Penn and Del Toro. Instead, she meshes into the ensemble, delivering stark moments of sheer power into her troubled role. Each delivery, from forceful outbursts to mental breakdown, is done with an expert's touch.
A popcorn movie this isn't. This is cinema as an emotional stimulant. It's an adrenaline rush without a single explosion or car chase. It's shocking, touching, surprising and, though somewhat flawed, undeniably moving.
