Their father gives two Moroccan children a .270-caliber rifle to go hunt jackals. Once alone on the nearby cliffs, the youngest shoots at a tour bus, seriously wounding an American woman (Cate Blanchett). The nearest hospital is four hours away, so the bus detours to a remote village where her husband (Brad Pitt) begs for aid from the U.S. Embassy. This incident provides the narrative center of Alejandro GonzA¡lez IAA¡rritu's ""Babel.""
""Babel"" has two equally gripping parallel stories: Back in San Diego, Pitt's and Blanchett's children are whisked off to a wedding in Mexico by their caretaker (Adriana Barraza), an illegal immigrant. On the ride back, her nephew (Gael GarcA-a Bernal) provokes a confrontation with border officials. And in Japan, police question the original owner of the rifle which shot Blanchett, while his deaf-mute daughter (Rinko Kikuchi) faces her own personal demons.
The result of all this could have been a contrived, preachy movie. GonzA¡lez IAA¡rritu is too tactful for that. His film is not a commentary on language barriers and cultural prejudice. It simply shows the effects of these divisions and how they play out on a personal scale. One of GonzA¡lez IAA¡rritu's best decisions is to only reference in passing the international crisis set off by the opening shooting. He is too devoid of pretension to dwell on the ""broader picture."" There is tragedy in our world, but it is experienced by individuals, not countries. In that sense, ""Babel"" is an epic of human souls.
GonzA¡lez IAA¡rritu, utilizing his technique from ""21 Grams,"" tells his story out of chronological order, often repeating scenes from alternate perspectives. This style gives even the most random events a tinge of near-blasphemous inevitability. In the opening moments, IAA¡rritu shows the tour bus attack from the far-away perspective of the child shooter. Twenty minutes later, he gives one long shot of Blanchett napping against the bus window, as the vehicle comes into range. His audience knows a bullet is coming through the window. It's almost as if one has to.
This is not to say that ""Babel"" derives its power chiefly from manipulation. These stylistic gestures would be ineffective in a bad film—but this is a great one. Guillermo Arriaga's screenplay captures the essence of frustration and panic. Gustavo Santaolalla, who won an Oscar for his ""Brokeback Mountain"" theme, offers another provocative score. And the acting is nearly flawless; the characters of ""Babel"" are convincingly portrayed as complex, multifaceted people. The most haunting performance comes from Barraza; her screams of terror after losing the children in her care will stay with viewers for weeks.
After ""Crash"" won the Oscar for Best Picture last year, many questioned the quality of films based almost entirely on coincidence. Those who hate ""Babel"" will also raise these cynical objections. This position certainly forgets the long precedent for chance occurrences in great literature. But here the coincidences are saying something deep and intentional. We are damned, according to the Biblical story of Babel, to be estranged from one another permanently. We got to this point because our determination to control the universe made God angry. At the end of the day, coincidence might be all we have to connect us. We can't control anything anymore.
