BABEL

by Kevin Koehler

In Genesis 11:9, “Babel” is the name given to Babylon by God, taken from the Hebrew balal: “to confuse.” The people there had taken it upon themselves to construct a tower “whose top may reach unto heaven…and let us make us a name.” Bad idea: angered by this symbol of hubris and grandeur, God took steps to prevent a repeat performance. First and foremost, a common language had to be eliminated; it was this that allowed man to cooperate on a scale such as the Tower of Babel. “Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth; and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.” Some Rabbinical sources actually characterize the Tower as a revolt against God, a physical attempt to wage war against those that reside in the clouds.

We still use the word babel in much the same way, but with a slightly altered spelling. That is, babble: to speak without actually saying anything. Talking without being heard. It just so happens that there’s a lot of babbling in the film Babel, acclaimed Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s own attempt at grandeur. Like the fabled tower, his towering ambition falls short of Heaven, but it certainly isn’t for lack of effort. Unfortunately, the continent-hopping execution is bigger than the picture is.

Four stories are told consecutively. Americans Richard (Pitt) and Susan (Blanchett) are vacationing in Morocco; a family tragedy has recently struck, so the two set off for the foreign land to be alone, yet they are constantly surrounded by a bubble of English-speaking tourists (in addition to their own Western cultural mores, brought along for the ride). While riding a sightseeing bus, Susan is shot by someone unseen from out on the hillside. U.S. authorities assume it’s terrorism - understandably so, I'd argue - but the film is probably not as forgiving of this rush to judgment.

Young sheepherders Yusef and Ahmed (the roles are played by non-actors), like most brothers, are competitive. When dad gives them a gun to kill predatory jackals, it becomes a instrument in their games of one-upmanship. A bus approaches in the distance; Yusef takes aim, trying to impress his brother with how far he can fire a bullet. The vehicle grinds to a halt and the results of their actions are unmistakable. They run.

Meanwhile, back in the States, Richard and Susan’s Mexican nanny, Amelia (Barraza), looks after their two elfin offspring (so cute that one has to be played by a Fanning, in this case Dakota’s sister, Elle). Susan’s maiming has proven quite inconvenient for Amelia: she’d planned to attend her own son’s wedding in the old country but there is no one to care for the children in her absence. She decides to take them with her; impulsive nephew Santiago (Bernal) makes it a foursome.

Then there’s Chieko (Kikuchi), stranded half a world away in Japan. She’s a deaf-mute, isolated not just from the other stories of Babel but from those traditional teenage girl obsessions: music and boys. Chieko has suffered a family tragedy as well, specifically the recent loss of a parent to what appears to be suicide. Fumbling for intimacy, her loneliness finds unique expression in a number of destructive sexual behaviors, like exposing “the hairy monster” to strangers and molesting her dentist.

There’s some superficial plot connectivity that will ultimately bridge Chieko’s segments to the others, a silly little bit of narrative duct tape in all honesty. The Japanese segments never truly feel at one with the larger whole; it would be easier to accept if the exercise didn't smack of Asian schoolgirl fetishism. While Amelia's adventures have some wonderful human qualities (and Richard/Susan's less so; Inarritu seems most at home communicating in his own native tongue), Chieko remains a vaguely humanesque vessel for Inarritu and writer Arriaga to work out their grand simplisms about (mis)communication that aren't as profound or provocative as they like to think they are; indeed, the film's attempt to be topical (employing current American hot buttons terrorism and illegal immigration as plot points) are arrogantly shallow, content to make vague statements about the commonality of human experience than develop anything truly complex. The comforting message seems to be that we'd all get allong famously if we'd just (re)learn to listen to one another - fathers to daughters, border patrol agents to undocumented workers, people with hearing to the hearing-impaired. I admire the optimism, but it's also pandering and more than a little reductionist.

If you're going to aim for the heavens, it is that standard by which you will be measured. With some irony, the byzantine Babel is the one that babbles, speaking without actually saying much of anything.

Interesting footnote: Director and writer have had a falling out since the film's production. Having previously worked together on Amores perros and 21 Grams, there are apparently some hard feelings over credit on their latest collaboration. "It's a shame that in your unjustified obsession to claim sole responsibility for the film, you seem not to recognize that movies are an art of deep collaboration," reads a letter to Arriaga, published in Mexican magazine Chilango and signed by Inarritu (as well many of Babel's actors, it's composer and cinematographer). "You weren't...and you never let yourself feel like...part of the team, and your comments are [a] lamented and belittling end to this marvelous and collective process that we have all experienced and are now celebrating." Arriaga has taken issue with Inarritu's claiming of a "idea by" credit that appears on Babel as a supplement to his customary directing credit.

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