"21 Grams" struts and shows off like a cowboy in a rodeo -- the director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarittu pulls out all the stops in demonstrating to the world exactly what he's capable of. Those who have seen his first work, "Amores Perros," know it all already: The way time turns elastic in his lens so that it stretches like hot rubber and then snaps back at the most unexpected moments; his knack for weaving innocuous objects into the fabric of tragedy; the way he seems to probe and touch on something raw and exposed, both in his characters and in the audience witnessing their agony, ecstasy and pain.
"Amores Perros" was a sun-drenched, bloody corrida with a startling philosophical core, unfolding with grand messiness on the streets of Mexico. Now in "21 Grams," Inarittu has recreated a similar world, but against the somber, manicured backdrop of an American suburb.
"21 Grams" -- despite the knockout performances from the entire cast -- belongs to the director. Because of this, "21 Grams" (apocryphally, the weight a human being loses at the time of death, supposed by some to be the weight of the soul) never really feels like a story so much as a showpiece.
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