'Babel' tower that looms large

Alejandro González Iñárritu's new film Babel, a single gun shot links together the feeble, engrossing and heart precipitating tales of different worlds varying in many–a–ways and yet all consummate the greatest of all tales and thereby one sets forth on this journey to check our lives and find these resemblances to the many protagonists in this cinematic pleasure of a movie.

The International crisis brought about a single gunshot stirs it up and we wonder who is to be blamed for this? The adolescent shooter? His father, who entrusted him with the rifle? Or the man who sold them the gun? And as we wrack our brains we don't even realize we have been sucked up in the convoluted lives of the characters in different states of beings and in totally different parts of the world making the remote desert, homely gathering of Mexico, the family life of America and the heights of Roppongi Hills making the backdrop.

Babel takes its title from the Genesis tale in which God punishes and scatters an arrogant people by confusing their languages. The film clearly demonstrates that the separation continues. Fault lines run between nations and traditions, but they also splinter to divide communities, families, and marriages. A simple dispute between brothers can tear a rift in history, and a gesture of grace between strangers can make a difference too.

Babel takes us into four strikingly different cultural contexts. In its intricate web of narratives, it is an accomplished work. Babel's revelations are painful to watch but ultimately humbling. We're likely to see our own limitations mirrored back to us in uncomfortable ways—flaws that know no borders, stating for example the Americans could learn from its portrait of tourists becoming impatient with the limitations of other, less–privileged cultures.

Babel begins in the rugged hills of North Africa, where two boys—Ahmed (Said Tarchani) and Yussef (Boubker Ait El Caid)—are protecting their herd of goats with the help of their father's new long–range rifle. Boys and guns are never a good combination, and sure enough, one of them makes a huge mistake that will divide the family and test the wits of local authorities.

The second chapter of the film involves an American couple, Richard and Susan Jones (Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett), on vacation in Morocco. Nursing the wounds of a recent tragedy, they have left their children back home with the nanny, hoping that an escape will bring them solace. But there's no easy fix for their damaged relationship. And the desert tends to rub tempers raw, especially for those who aren't used to it.

Things go from bad to worse when the Jones are drawn out from behind the safety glass of their tour bus and forced to endure a terrifying ordeal that tests the mettle of their marriage. In the sudden shock of their suffering, we may wonder how we would respond in similar circumstances. Surrounded by people who don't speak English, far from modern conveniences like toilets and medical aid, Richard reminds us how easy it is to take luxury for granted. And through his eyes, we discover that the people of poorer cultures know a few things that we don't.

At the same time, the U.S. government faces a challenge that mirrors Richard's personal dilemma. Recently wounded by violence, America is quick to see terrorism where it may not be. Will such fear result in even more misguided violence?

Meanwhile, back home, Robert and Susan's children have stumbled into a different sort of trouble. Amelia (Adriana Barraza), an illegal immigrant working as their nanny, needs to get back to Mexico for her son's wedding. When Richard calls and demands that she stay with his children, she faces a tough choice. Obey? Abandon them to someone else's care? Or take them south of the border for a while?

"Mom says that Mexico is really dangerous," says the boy. And sure enough, they find themselves in a life–threatening debacle, thanks to the reckless foolishness of a self–absorbed young man (Gael Garcia Bernal).

And there's yet another story to tell, one with a mysterious connection to that gunshot.

Taking us to Tokyo, Iñárritu tells the story of a deaf–mute teenager, Chieko (Rinko Kikuchi). Catching the glances of boys their own age, Chieko and her disabled friends commiserate: "They look at us like we're monsters."

Chieko's desperate loneliness becomes the film's most powerful picture of the human condition. Broken and desperate for a meaningful relationship, she resorts to dangerous games. And it's hard to blame her. She's embracing a pop culture lie—that exploiting her own sexuality is the best way to get attention. The result is heartbreaking to behold.

Where is God in all of this? The question doesn't even occur to most of these characters. While we glimpse some Christian symbols on the edges of these stories, these seem to be little more than cultural decorations.

This is not the first movie about alienation but this has so many things going for it. Ofcourse riding high on the able and starry shoulders of Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt, where Blanchett is impressive as usual, but one has never seen a performance like this from Brad Pitt. Looking like he's aged twenty–five years since Ocean's Twelve, he disappears into a character whose sufferings will haunt you for a long time to come.

Long story short, Babel shows us that history has not taught us how to overcome the separation that began at that Old Testament tower. While it is easy for those of us who enjoy some measure of wealth and privilege to forget, we are united—east and west, young and old, rich and poor—in the loneliness of the fall. Iñárritu encourages us to remember that we share "the same spiritual spine."