Reviews

It is not easy to talk about "Lost in Translation". Sofia Coppola's second film as a director is in part about things we never talk about. While its two protagonists try to find mutual solace in each other, their silence is as expressive as their words. This is a film that believes that an individual can have a valuable relationship with someone else without becoming part of that person's life. At 19 years of age, I am not married but I can understand pretty well that it is easier for a stranger with whom you share a moment in the bar or corridor to understand your problems better than your husband or wife. Here is an extract from Roger Ebert's great review of the film: "We all need to talk about metaphysics, but those who know us well want details and specifics; strangers allow us to operate more vaguely on a cosmic scale. When the talk occurs between two people who could plausibly have sex together, it gathers a special charge: you can only say "I feel like I've known you for years" to someone you have not known for years."

In this marvellous story, the two lonely individuals that merge the illusions of what they have and what they could have are two Americans. The emotional refuge, Tokyo. We have Bob Harris (Bill Murray), and actor in his fifties who was once a star, and is now supplementing his incomes with the recording of a whisky commercial. On the other side of the telephone, a frightening reality: his wife, his sons, and the mission of choosing the right material for heaven knows what part of the house. When we consider Bob's situation, we realise that Lost in Translation is also a meditation on the misery of fame. Certainly fame has great (perhaps greater than disadvantages) advantages but then there are the obligations, the expectations...

We also have Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson), a woman in her twenties who is accompanying her husband, a photographer addicted to work, on a business trip. But it could said it is as if she is alone anyway. Her world, just like Bob's, is reduced to strange days in the bedroom, the corridors, the hotel's swimming pool, and the bar, the perfect destination for victims of sleeplessness and wounded soul. The bar is the place Bob and Charlotte meet for the first time. They talk, little, but just enough. Once their dislike for parts of their lives are established, they begin sharing times that feel dead to be able to feel alive.

Bob and Charlotte are souls in transition for whom, surrounded and confused by exotic rituals, and a different language, allows them a moment to lose their identities. Both characters provoke similar feelings form different experiences. There are no kisses or crazy nights between them, but only a shared intimacy in which a night out, a walk in the streets, a session of karaoke becomes a powerful expression of their affection an complicity. The relationship we all await only happens in our minds and the protagonists, whom we are not allowed to know everything they say and desire. Tokyo metaphorically speaking is the third character in the film. The bright colours, the noise of the city...just everything evokes the various spiritual awakenings of the characters.

It ends on a perfect note leaving the relationship of the characters undecided. A rare gem in modern day cinema.

Joel Schumacher's The Phone Booth is an entertaining roller coaster ride, a fast paced thriller loaded with morals, some plausible others far fetched.

Collin Farell as Stu Shephard is the main character in a film that is practically set on one scenario: a phone booth, the last one in Manhattan. In the world of public relationships, business, change of credit cards, you name it, a man like Shephard is the king. He represents the inter-medium between half truths and public lies. He is a man without compassion, able to not pay his colleagues, lie at any price and sell his soul to the devil of public relationships. He is the perfect guy to threaten for truth He removes his marriage ring for a couple of minutes very mid day from the same booth to talk to his young (Katie Holmes) woman who is aspiring to be an actress, giving her false hopes about becoming a star. But someone seems to be aware of Shephard's ways. This guy is cold minded, capable of putting into great difficulties a man with a growing feeling of guilt, a fact perhaps overly underlined by Larry Cohen's screenplay. The phone booth of New York rings. Somebody must pick up the phone and Shephard is to close to ignore it. The guy behind the phone is the sniper, and he wants Shephard to confess his sins or get shot.

The plot almost belongs to a short feature film but Schumacher does a great job of conserving the only scenario (with the exception of some scenes where we see the police) without ever being dull. This is partly due to the great verbal exchange between the victim and the sniper. The sniper's voice suggests a strong presence, a sadistic but mesmerizing tone. "Do you see the tourists with their video cameras, hoping the cops will shoot so that they sell the tape?", he says in one of the film's best moments. Collin Farell offers enough fast talk, gestures of fear and regret to bring his character to life, which is all the more compelling considering he is basically talking to a mouthpiece for the most part. The ever tightening camera work does a great job of increasingly adding to the tension.

With this film, I can see what Schumacher was trying to do: to criticise without pity a society filled with adultery, racism and hypocrites (everything Shephard represents) who do not see that they are the deciders of their own destinies. The film's weakest point is the sniper's motive which is closer to morality than the ethic of behaviour which united with some fancy words, reduces some of the film to some very basic moral objectives that even a five year old could understand. But as a whole, this is a film worth watching just to have a good time.

Casablanca is a fine example of the truism that the great classics never lose there power. With a plot that is apparently simple yet delves into universal themes that are still true today, a series of wonderful characters, some joyous and witty dialogue, a nostalgic score and a great melancholic setting, Casablanca is rightly regarded as one of the treasures of this art. Watch this film as much as you can and you will realise that it achieves what is only in the reach of great movies: it improves with time, uplifting you, purging you, and giving you a taste of what people call, the "magic of cinema." The film uses World War II as a device to set two lovers' personal tragedy against the greater larger tragedy that was the war. We have Rick (Humphrey Bogart), a charismatic, cold, hard hearted bar owner who sticks his neck out for nobody and who is going by his duties until one night, his wounds are re-opened with the arrival of Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman). In a series of flashbacks that have always seemed poignant to me, we learn that Rick and Ilsa were once lovers in Paris. Well, that was what Rick thought until the entrance of the Nazi regime in Paris when he was suddenly abandoned by her without any precise explanation. Seeing her in Casablanca accompanied by her husband Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid) after all those years since Paris brings back those memories he tried so hard to avoid confronting. Why Casablanca, why "of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to walk into mine?" Being hunted by this question is what avoids Rick handing Ilsa and her husband the letters of transit - letters Victor needs to flee the grasp of the Nazi in Casablanca so that he can carry on his fight against this evil.

Rick's cafe is, metaphorically speaking, the other great character in the film. It's exotic in look and evokes a feeling of fascination. I've always thought that the contrast between the nazi terror the outside world is embroiled in with the mostly joyful and the adventurous atmosphere of Rick's Cafe provides an element of hope and security the film needs. It also provides the setting for which a series of fascinating characters and adventures are displayed. In it, we have Major Strasser, the German officer who will do all it takes to make sure Victor never leaves Casablanca (that would be too dangerous for the Nazis), Ugarte (Peter Lorre) the strange thief who stole the letters of transit and gave them to Rick arguing that "I (he) have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust." But of all the characters (including Sam the piano player whose song "As Time Goes By" remains immortal and Sydney Greenstreet as Signor Ferrari, the man who can get you anything), none is more fascinating nor brings me the most pause than Captain Renault (Claude Rains) in a landmark performance. He is a corrupt officer, but likable, funny and because he attempts to understand the persona of Rick, he provides the ultimate link between the audience and the movie's hero. Humphrey Bogart gives what is perhaps his most recognised performance; there is a certain charm in the way he talks, smokes, sidesteps adversities and pretends he is a tough guy whilst we can sense a hidden wound inside him. And Ingrid Bergman just shines the screen: she is the innocent beauty the film needs to emphasize Rick's initial cruelty towards her and in the end, his courage and kindness.

Casablanca is above all, about self sacrifice; sacrificing personal interests for a better universe, for the defeat of the Nazi regime, for a better society in a world filled with evil. The famous final sequence is so direct in its manifestation of this that it works more like a parable than a sequence in a movie. In times of despair when there is little hope, Casablanca is one of the film's I turn to for hope and redemption. There are countless of great sequences each with something exciting happening. To me the greatest and most meaningful is when some Nazi soldiers gather round the piano and sing an ominous song to the "Fatherland". It makes everyone in the Rick's cafe very uncomfortable. That's when Paul Heinried instructs the orchestra to play the French national anthem, the"Marseilles". Everyone starts to sing. The Nazis are silenced. The music takes over. I found my eyes on the verge of tears.

This is an undisputed masterpiece, a treasure that remains fresh with each viewing.

Luis García Berlanga's El Verdugo (The Executioner) was recently named the second greatest Spanish film of all time yet it still remains unknown to many non-Spanish people. Perhaps the reason it's so unknown is due to the fact that it was released during the Spanish dictatorship lead by General Franco and this did not permit it to get an international recognition and viewing. Whatever the reason, it's a pity that this little treasure of a film can not get the international recognition it deserves. It's one of the great black comedies I have seen, a fierce yet hilarious critique on the death penalty. Berlanga's inspiration is Franco's regime which practised it, but it has a universal appeal.

Filled with memorable gags, the story starts with Jose Luís (Nino Manfredi), an undertaker who is thinking of moving to Germany to become a good mechanic. In love with Carmen, daughter of Amadeo (José Isbert), an executioner, he is one day discovered by her father during there moment of intimacy and is forced to marry her – the undertaker marries an executioner's daughter. Jose Luís is faced with economic difficulties and the urgent need to create a new home for his new wife. The only way of solving this problem, it seems, would be accepting his father in law's offer (Amadeo): to take the vacant place of executioner Amadeo is leaving due to retirement. Only this way will he get a home. Under pressure from his surrounding, Jose Luís accepts the job convinced that he will never have to put it into practise. Life goes on pleasantly in his new home until one day he receives the feared telegram: he must execute a convicted man.

The story, filmed in a black and white photography that feels so fresh, sounds serious because below the comical surface, lies not only the serious subject matter of death penalty but also the wide spread pessimism caused by Franco's regime. Director Berlange could have chosen to tell the story as sad drama but he doesn't: in a way, he is laughing at the absurd logic and inhumanity he feels the death sentence is. The film's true brilliance lies not in the wonderful all around performances, but in its screenplay that takes on a comic tone that is apparently inoffensive to condemn an action that is just as inhuman as those committed by the executed. And the great irony is that the executioner goes through much worse emotionally than the executed in a great sequence. The movie looks with amusement at the idea of how those who execute can go on there days with a calm conscience. But don't get the wrong idea, El Verdugo does not portray the condemned as victims – it is not interested in there guilt or innocence. The only victims, it suggests, are those that accept to practise inhumanity under the name of justice. There are so many brilliant comical sequences that have nothing to admire from the exhausted and cheap comedies we get from many of the films nowadays.

This is a film that will certainly be less appealing to those in favour of the death penalty. For those who do not which to dwell on such a subject can look at it on its simplest level, which is that of a first rate comical masterpiece.

"John Q" takes on an issue that is as serious as necessary: the lack of a national health insurance in the American health system, where the health of citizens is left on the hands of the insurance companies that treat people who need medical attention like a business. Despite the great possibilities this issue offers for a film, the screenplay does not know how to convey it and instead makes "John Q" what it is: an overwritten and over dramatized film. A gallery of forced and artificial situations. A film that is insultingly simplistic in the way it conveys its themes and ultimately, a collection of the most pathetic Hollywood clichés. All this under a cinematography that is dramatically mundane.

Once Denzel Washington's character has taken a hospital's emergency room hostage we have the hostages supporting his cause and later on, a crowd standing outside the hospital cheering at John Q's cause whilst the police are treated like the bad guys. Can a drama be more unrealistic than this? Contrieved and artificial to me. I am aware that in real life it is possible to have people who supported Jon Q's acts but the way the film shows it only serves to hero worship his persona and take away the realism. In a lot of movies the characters are easy to describe. Take for example Washington's character Alonzo Harris in "Training Day". He is a stereotype, the embodiment of a corrupt police officer who does things by his own methods. But the difference between a character like Alonzo Harris and the ones in this film is that whilst Harris is a stereotype, he does not seem like one whereas in "John Q" everybody is portrayed as a stereotype due to the screenplay's insulting simplicity in its dialogue. John Q the good father forced to take justice on his own hands, Rebecca Payne (Anne Heche) the medical director with no heart, Robert Duvall the detective who sympathises with John Q's plight and on the other side Gus Monroe (Ray Liotta), the police officer with no sympathy who feels Q should be eliminated without further negotiation and on and on... Consider dialogue like "I'm not going to bury my son! my son is going to bury me!" Sure it sounds good but it also deems the film as totally contrived and again, far too simplistic with little regard for the audiences intelligence. The screenplay should have done the more challenging and better thing of allowing us to judge John Q on our own rather than telling us what to think of him and giving little argument from the opposition's voice (those that are not capable of seeing a lack of a national health insurance as an injustice). The film also tries to deal with the sensationalism in the media when tragic events occurs but it's focus is too thin and lacks conviction.

As a thriller it is a poor and predictable one where when a scene is just getting interesting, the screenplay adds a situation, a dialogue or a character that is pathetic. Denzel Washington does a wonderful job but I was kind of uneasy when I asked myself: how could he accept to lend his enormous talent to such a weak screenplay? The performances can not be criticised but the characters all seem to be what they are: supporting actors supporting Washington. In the end "John Q" is a noble attempt to denounce a social injustice. It just lacks the skill to do this correctly.

Some people lock their bad memories deeply inside their minds so that they don't come across them again. They have erased truths to live without worries. They have closed the doors of their traumas and thrown them to the bottom of a river. But it is useless because sooner or later, something, no matter how small it may seem, will bring them to the surface and re-open those memories.

In "Mystic River" based on the novel by Dennis Lehane and adapted by Brian Helgeland (LA Confidential), Clint Eastwood establishes the camera as the key to those secrets and the characters as the victims of its unlocking. The characters are three childhood friends. Jimmy (Sean Penn), Dave (Tim Robbins) and Sean (Kevin Bacon) whose relationship broke after the brief kidnapping of one of them - Dave. But now, 25 years later, their lives cross again after another horrible incident: the murder of Jimmy's daughter.

Brendan (Thomas Guiry), a boy Jimmy does not approve of and wanted to run away with his daughter is a suspect. But so is Dave who came home the night of the murder covered in blood and was somewhat hysterical in the presence of his wife (Marcia Gay Harden). Sean, alongside Whitey (Laurence Fishburne) are assigned to the case. We remember that the three were once childhood friends shaken by that tragic event that lead to the decline of their friendship and now a similar things threatens to to so once again. Sean, returning to his childhood place, must face situations he never knew and emotions he pretends never existed.

Jimmy vows to kill his daughter's assassin hiring some neighbourhood criminals to help him in the investigation. Then there is Whitey who thinks that Daqve is obviously guilty after all, everything seems to point in that direction. But Sean is unwilling to suspect a childhood friend.

At the centre of "Mystic River" is the idea that many things that occur in the past do not always vanish with the passage of time. Every act has a big price that can pursue you for good. If the innocence and dreams from childhood are violently shaken the affected individuals may never be cured because traumas can be hidden inside victims even though they ignore it. But does everything count if it serves as a base to hide all the wounds? Every friend has to show his support and hope because in an atmosphere united with the similar sad objective, there is no room for doubts. But if one member (or friend) questions the honesty or truth of the others, probably the group of friends will be wounded to death (not literally).

But "Mystic River" is not only a thriller about men dominated by their past or shaking their heads in disbelief due to their destinies. No, that is to simplistic. This is a character study of the highest order. A brutal analysis in the dissection of tragedy. A film about the importance of the devotion of wives. An emotional puzzle that goes along with the plot only to later throw away all the pieces. A study of innocence, guilt, revenge, paranoia and forgiveness. A film engulfed in incredible tension and sadness. In terms of its moral lesson, "Mystic River" is more cautious than "Unforgiven" and in terms of drama on par (or even above) with "The Bridges of Madison County." I'm not sure where I would rank "Mystic River" amongst Eastwood's other masterpieces but I no for certain he has never united a better cast nor produced more powerful performances. Sean Penn is so intimately violent, angered yet undeniably touching. Tim Robbins transmits all the hopelessness and pain of Dave ad Kevin Bacon, in the best performance I can remember from him, attains the balance and coldness Sean needs to become the judge between his two friends (Dave and Sean). The female performances are also wonderful.

The title "Mystic River" says it all. Although Mystic is a river that passes through Boston, the title is a metaphor of the film's emotional journey. Even though we arrive at a conclusion, the film is about the emotional journey we experience with the deeply fractured characters. With the simple yet commonly ignored idea that films should use real human emotions and take time to reveal the characters, Eastwood has created an elegant but disturbing notion of human nature that is fiercely ironic, filled with frustrations and regrets. When you leave the theatre feeling pain somewhere without knowing why and where don't worry, that is exactly the state you are meant to be in; a bit like the characters.

There are few filmmakers I find easier to relate to than Woody Allen. I love the way he views the cinema. Even his weak films offer something that sets them apart from other filmmakers. You always get a sense that you are in the presence not of a filmmaker but of a man that is actively revealing his concerns, obsessions, and questioning the world around him. He knows that there are no easy answers to his questions but you see the joy is in questioning. Here is a man whose movies are filled with more cultural references and allusions than your average fair. Here is what he says of Ingmar Bergman, one of his favourite directors: "Hollywood for the most part aimed at the lowest common denominator. It's conceived in venality, it's motivated by pandering to the public, by making a lot of money. People like Ingmar Bergman thought about life, and they had feelings, and they wanted to dramatize them and engage one in a dialogue." This is exactly the same way I feel Allen confronts his films with the major difference being that whilst Bergman is stridently pessimistic and saddening, the latter sees life with humour and sarcasm. If the auteur theory is true, then Woody Allen would be one of its greatest representatives. Manhattan is one of Allen's best, a warm and emotionally resonant tale of love in the city he loves so much.

In Manhattan, Isaac Davis (Woody Allen) is a divorced writer of TV shows unhappy with his job. His ex-wife, a lesbian, left him to live with another woman and is writing a book about her relationship with him. He presently dates a seventeen years old high school student, Tracy (Mariel Hemingway), who is in love with him, but who he does not love, at least he thinks. When he meets Mary Wilkie (Diane Keaton), the mistress of his married best friend Yale (Michael Murphy), he has a crush on her. He finishes with Tracy and has an affair with Mary, affecting the lives of many people including his own. The central theme in Manhattan is that people are incapable of valuing what they have in the present always asking for more until, in the future, realising they had all they needed when it's already too late. Isaac for example thinks he does not love Tracy after all, how could a relationship between a 42 year old man and a 17 year old high school student function? Ethically it is unacceptable but what Isaac does not realise until it's too late is that the moral structure of society is a man made invention that blinds us of our true desires: only by following our heart and logic do we become true to ourselves. Characters cover up there troubles with an air of intellectualism and the obvious example is Mary who uses her profound cultural knowledge to protect herself from the solitude and regret she faces when firstly she abandons Yale, and secondly, she falls for Isaac. I could spend ten pages talking about the film's themes but Allen's masterpiece is basically about not being true to yourself, using words that don't always match your actions, inhabiting a world of cynicism, unrealistic ideals and not trusting the intentions of the people around you. It is a funny and truthful study of the elements of human nature we rarely talk about.

In the beginning of the review, I said I love Allen's cultural references and allusions. I especially love the moment when they talk about the overrated artists. Keaton's character suggests that artists like Van Gogh, Mozart and Ingmar Bergman are overrated whilst Isaac suggests that every artist she mentioned are truly great. When she downgrades Bergman, Isaac responds by saying "Bergman is the only genius in cinema today". I love this line because I think that Bergman is one of the only true geniuses in cinema but the reason I love the film not so much because I agree with quotes like this but because Allen structures a film in which he openly debates cultural issues, especially the cinema. He gives us both sides of the matter and there is no definitive answer but the joy of watching two people with different views talking about it. We may not admit it but it's always stimulating to open a discussion with a person who holds a different view. This is the type of thing Allen captures on camera. Then there is the great dialogue and to watch the characters (especially Woody Allen) in Manhattan use dialogue that is more intelligent, thought provoking, insightful, and funny than anything available today is a complete joy.

Certainly the central drama would not be as powerful as it is without the beautiful, somewhat sad and evocative black & white photography by Gordon Willis which romanticizes Manhattan giving it a poetic quality. We can almost smell and touch the city and that is part of the reason the characters become so real. And what beautiful performances especially by Mariel Hemingway who suggests a sweet and innocent quality so appropriate for the role. What a beautiful film this is and how sad it is to know that Woody didn't like it.

Training Day sees Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke at full supremacy, both so brilliantly in command of there roles that they compensate for this action thriller's decorous screenplay and lack of ideas. If this film is about corruption, greed, narcotics and violence, by the end it becomes a one on one show between Washington and Hawke's character. What we care for, what entertains us through out the film is not its conventional themes expressed without conviction, but the squabbles between the two morally distinct characters as they visit the most corrupt places with the most corrupt people on the streets.

Ethan Hawke plays Jack Hoyt (in a performance equally as brilliant as Denzel's), a man whose dream is to belong to the elite Narc squad. For him, it is an opportunity to fight true crime, the one that matters, to save the world of drugs. But before he can even dream of belonging to the Narc squad, he's got to pass a test and this film is precisely about that Training Day where Alonzo Harris (Denzel Washington) will be his instructor, a day in which Hoyt will see that nothing in the city of Los Angeles is as it seems, and we realise the unsettling boundaries of corruption.

Alonzo Harris, in an inspired and over the top performance by Denzel, is a charismatic individual convinced by his own methods. He believes that giving out street justice is what justice is all about, that the enemy is in the streets, outside the law and he has got to be hunted like a wolf hunting another wolf. Alonzo is clearly corrupt and does not go by the law, he is a liar and may be worse than the criminals themselves since he has power and they don't. The contrast between Hoyt, a man who goes by the law but has little experience in enforcing it and a man who doesn't go by the law but has a lot of experience in enforcing it is the movie's key appeal.The film does a good job of reflecting Hoyt's initial and later feeling about Alonzo's actions on us. Firstly we feel that this guy may actually just be a cop trying to fight crime in his own way but there comes a point when we grow to dislike him.

The final moments of the film are the weakest point of the film. You see, what happens at Alozno seems collected out of a container since the only clue we are given for the possibility is shown a little past half way in the film. It feels like the director didn't know how to end the film and found a far fetched way during shooting. Having said that, I like the way the director handles the very last scene: it doesn't force any unnecessary action but ends as it should. This is a film worth watching only to see the character conflict.

It seems like any other day. The camera takes us into the institute, shows us around its corridors, classrooms, coffee room, library, football pitch. The institute becomes a character. We follow a student, we see what he sees, we hear his conversations…until he comes across someone else, then we follow him too, and then later on another person and so on. Eli photographs almost everything he sees, especially John, the blond boy. Nate balances his energy between football and his girlfriend Carrie. We have three weird girl friends that stare and judge other adolescents from their lockers. Then we have the institute's "ugly girl" who wishes the corridor was a lot shorter than it is, and finally Alex and Eric. Both have designed a sinister plan at home through the internet which has helped them find out where to buy a rifle and how to use it.

But it is anything but a normal day. We are never told where or in which city this institute is located. Director Gus Van Sant uses it as a visual metaphor for Columbine Colorado, where on 20th April of 1999, two armed students entered an institute and caused one of the most horrific assassinations in American history. They killed thirteen people (twelve students and one teacher), wounded twenty one others, and then committed suicide. If we remember, this was the same incident that inspired Michael Moore's Oscar winning documentary Bowling for Columbine.

Moore's film fulminated against what happened. Elephant avoids trying to direct our emotions: the material is approached with the coldness of a documentary film. It is disturbing, thought provoking and frustrating.

Elephant perfectly comprehends the banalities and small terrors of life in the institute and it does it using the method Akira Kurosawa used in Rashomon (1950): the events are told from different points (with different characters from the institute) of view and all those views are both true and false. True because we are seeing the events as each person saw it happening, but false because what one sees does not necessarily reflect the truth of everything that is going on: other aspects of the events are being missed. That is to say that the film is a fragment of the reality in which every viewer stays with his or her idea of what occurred. We live in a world where we constantly get bombed with news that is difficult to understand, partly because it is manipulated. A film like this permits us to simply observe and come to our own conclusions as to what happened. Elephant is by no means plot-driven - shots meander from behind students through hallways for minutes at a time. It also makes no attempts to preach or editorialize about the atrocity of school violence. Elephant is simply 'there,' as attentive during little moments of seemingly no consequence as it is during the graphic sequences that closes the film. I admired the strength and flow of Van Sant's film, but Elephant stands as a movie that can be admired but never really enjoyed. How could it? Elephant seems to generate both good and bad reactions. Some critics condemn Van Sant for constructing a film that doesn't do anything, that doesn't stake out a position concerning why two kids would want to harm their fellow classmates. They hate the meandering pace of the film, too. In some respects, these detractors make an important point: we don't find any absolute answers in Elephant explaining why the killings happen, although Van Sant throws out some possible motivations ranging from easy access to weapons s to video games to National Socialism to alienation. Let's face facts, though: this film was never going to solve the permanent enigma surrounding Columbine. We might come closer to the truth by looking at the events through several sets of eyes but the problem is that we don't know most of what happened in the first place. We are all blind people grasping for answers in the case of Columbine. Personally, I liked the film. The sense of palpable dread I felt watching Alex and Eric drive to school on doomsday is one I have never felt with any other film. The massacre is horrific, not because it's gory but because it looks and feels mundane and matter of fact.

The film substitutes the dialogue with long travellings that stress the horrific events that are to occur. The camera is always observing its victims. There is dialogue but very little and intentionally mundane because the film wants us to be like voyeurs: to see the action but not be too involved. Slow motion is used to emphasize small moments that we usually take no notice of: a look in the sky, the barking of a dog, a movement, and the teenagers which the film uses to show first of all their beauty, then later on, the horror of their deaths. The film is so realistic in many ways not only because of the way it observes its characters and the institute but also because of the actors chosen. Van Sant tactfully avoids casting Hollywood stars and goes for unfamiliar faces who seem more like every day students (and teachers, parents etc) than any famous actor. If that is not bold enough, it is worthy to note that the actors are not professional actors, but normal teenagers.

The film will be frustrating for those who seek answers and this is certainly not your typical Hollywood fare. Elephant chooses not to discriminate between its audience and the people actually involved in the shooting. It is not a search for causes or sources, for a single reason why two teenage boys would go to their high school one day and start killing people; such a quest would be unachievable. What Elephant does achieve is a tone equal to that of the real event; what's troubling is that the tone itself is so unreal.