21 Grams: The Power of the Soul
“They say we all leave as 21 grams at the exact moment of our death. Everyone, 21 grams. The weight of a stack of five nickles, the weight of a chocolate bar, the weight of a hummingbird.“
Sean Penn’s voiceover is heard saying in the trailer, a concept from the experiments of one Dr. Duncan MacDougall. In 1907, MacDougall attempted - not discussing with fact-checking rationalists whether real or not, that’s not the point - to measure the weight of the soul by weighing terminally ill patients before and after death. He reported a sudden and measurable weight loss of about 21 grams at the moment of death, attributing this to the departure of the soul and Iñárritu weaved a successful film around it. Despite the scientific community's criticism of his methods and findings, MacDougall's theory intrigues and inspires discussions about the nature of life and death. One also doesn’t discuss Dali’s absurd surrealist horses with remarks such as ‘Looks impossible to me!’
Viva México Cabrones!
In Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Trilogy of Death, in particular, in 21 Grams, the idea gets a central theme, weaving through the lives of three interconnected characters. Set in a grungy American city - could be anywhere in the West - the narrative unfolds non-linearly, reflecting the chaotic and intertwined fates of Cristina, Jack, and Paul.
Cristina, played by Naomi Watts, is a mother and wife who loses her husband and daughters in a car accident. Jack, portrayed by Benicio Del Toro, is the ex-convict and evangelical practitioner who causes the accident. Sean Penn's character, Paul, is a man struggling with severe heart problems who receives Cristina's husband's heart in a transplant, leading him to attachment with the donor's family. The film's structure, much like Iñárritu's other works in his Trilogy of Death— the more violent, impulsive, and chaotic Amores Perros and the very internationally diverse film Babel—uses intertwined stories to explore themes of fate, loss, and redemption. A car accident catalyzes the dramatic changes in the characters' lives, binding them together in unexpected and profound ways. Similarly, the film Crash by Paul Haggis, released a few years later, resonates.
This narrative setup, also used in Amores Perros, highlights the interconnectedness of human experiences and the karmic ripple effects of a single event. The fatalism, fundamental in 21 Grams, is underscored by the characters' struggles with spirituality and existential questions. It is a common theme for Terrence Malick’s films and not an uncommon theme for others seeking a more profound, more mystical meaning than life as they’ve been force-fed.
It’s no secret for Iñárritu that he’s strongly inspired by Malick. Even today, mockery and ridicule are directed toward those interested in more than the shallowness and the ‘‘we need scientific proof by experts’’-rhetoric of human life in many parts.
As the film progresses, Cristina, Jack, and Paul grapple with their grief and guilt, their spirituality increasingly failing them. Cristina turns to drugs to cope with her loss, Jack isolates himself in a motel, wracked with guilt, and Paul becomes consumed with the idea of meeting the family of his heart donor. These personal journeys of suffering and redemption are portrayed with emotional depth, drawing the audience into their complex, intertwined lives.
Iñárritu's direction and Guillermo Arriaga's writing bring these characters to life with remarkable authenticity. The raw, loaded performances of Watts, Del Toro, and Penn are exceptional, imbuing their roles with raw emotion and vulnerability we all recognize ourselves in at one point in our lives. The cinematography, helmed by another Mexican, Rodrigo Prieto (who recently worked with Scorsese on Killers of the Flower Moon, enhances the narrative's emotional impact through its use of gritty handheld shots, the bleach bypass process, and distinctive color use.
“The problem with handheld cameras is when it’s overused, it’s too overused almost. There’s no reason for moving. But with Rodrigo, with every movement, and every reason to move, he moved, and with every reason to stay,” he stayed. “Rodrigo Prieto is a painter”, he concludes.
Just like Prieto, Emmanuel ‘‘El Chivo (the goat)’’ Lubezki, another Mexican film painter, worked with Iñárritu on The Revenant and got an Oscar for it. Frida Kahlo would be proud of her compatriots, putting authentic Mexican visual artistry on the map.
Socrates and Malick
The philosophical underpinnings of 21 Grams are further explored through the characters' reflections on life and death, which again refers to Malick’s existentialist themes, such as in The Thin Red Line. The film suggests that life is a fragile, fleeting gift, not a guarantee. This is illustrated through the intertwined fates of Cristina, Jack, and Paul. Cristina's husband dies, giving Paul a second chance at life, while Cristina learns she is pregnant with Paul's child. These connections emphasize the cyclical nature of life and death, echoing Socratic and Platonic philosophies on the interdependence of life, death, and rebirth.
Socrates held an unshakable belief in the immortality of the human soul, which led him to view death as a form of liberation rather than an evil. For Socrates, the purpose of life was to guide the soul towards eternal truths. Consequently, when death occurs, it signifies the soul's release from the physical vehicle, allowing it to attain true freedom and enlightenment.
In 21 Grams, accidents are the metaphors for the broader ‘accidents’ or ‘chance encounters’ of life. They highlight the unpredictability and interconnectedness of our every action, no matter how small, and the consequences that ripple through the lives of others, being exemplified by the characters' lives being irrevocably changed by the car accident, illustrating how seemingly random events can shape our destinies.
“Everything that is going on now, will affect me tomorrow, or the things I’m saying now or will do tonight, it’ll affect people. The accident of meeting one guy in a corner somewhere, one day, means, that can change your life,” Iñárritu explains using it as a dramatic element.
21 Grams represents redemption from guilt. Jack, despite his efforts to live a righteous life, is haunted by his role in the accident, represented in the film's exploration of the moral complexities of human existence. Similarly, Paul's obsession with meeting the donor's family and Cristina's descent into drug use are manifestations of their struggles with guilt and loss.
Despite the characters' suffering and the fatalistic character of the narrative, 21 Grams subtly hands us the idea, that life, with all its strife and unpredictability, is a precious gift. Encapsulated in the closing scenes, the characters, though broken, find moments of connection and redemption. Set in the bleak winter landscape of a disused motel swimming pool, it highlights the power of the soul.
21 Grams also reflects Iñárritu's broader vision, which grows more evident, more ambitious, and more daring in his latest works, from Babel to Bardo. His films carry similar recurring characteristics, the meaning of fate, and the human condition, using non-linear narratives and complex character studies to delve into the depths of one’s soul. This approach, combined with his collaboration with incredible actors and cinematographers, has established Iñárritu as one of the most compelling filmmakers of all time.
Bardo
In his most recent film, Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths, he continues to explore themes of identity, memory, and the human experience. ‘‘Loosely based on his life’’, Bardo follows the story of a Mexican journalist and documentarian who experiences an existential crisis as he grapples with his identity, personal history, and the current socio-political landscape.
This film, like 21 Grams, employs a non-linear narrative and surreal imagery to delve into the protagonist's psyche. Iñárritu's ability to weave complexity that reflects the intricacies of the human condition is a testament to his continued evolution as a filmmaker. In Tibetan Buddhism, “Bardo” refers to the state of existence between death and rebirth.
I’m sure many would agree, that Iñárritu is a cinematic visionary, a surreal painter for the big screen, crafting cinematic stories from a broader, universal, cosmic angle rather than from the classic, rational, often shallow, and linear story-telling, as is often the case in many modern films.
Alongside directors such as Malick, a philosophy professor, the visionary Iñárritu blends spirituality, esotericism, metaphysics, and mysticism as an important layer in his works and in the education and understanding of the broader human experience, willy-nilly whether the majority of the modern technocratic, soon to be fully robotized West and its rationalist structures, want to ridicule or dismiss it. They could be the last significant spiritually-inclined film giants standing tall and leaving some thought-provoking work as food for thought in a soon-to-be AI-dominated Theatre of Technocratic Hypnotization.
The performances in 21 Grams are consequentially notable for their depth and intensity. Naomi Watts delivers a heartbreaking portrayal of a woman grappling with unbearable loss and addiction. Her journey from a loving wife and mother to a broken, drug-dependent widow is rendered with raw emotional honesty, making her character's pain palpable. Benicio Del Toro's performance as Jack is outstanding, capturing the internal conflict of a man who seeks redemption through faith but is consumed by guilt. Sean Penn, as Paul, conveys the desperation of a man clinging to life while wrestling with his moral dilemmas.
Shake, Rattle, and Roll
The use of the bleach bypass process, famously known from Saving Private Ryan gives the film a stark, almost otherworldly dimension. This visual technique creates an intimate and immersive experience for the viewer, just as much the color palette shifts to reflect the emotional states of the characters, with muted tones during moments of despair and more vibrant hues in scenes of hope or connection. This early 2000s film delves into the concepts of these ‘accidents’, or better, synchronicity, early on talked about by Jung, or causalities, through its narrative structure.
Another significant aspect of 21 Grams is its commentary on the nature of justice and retribution. Jack's character embodies the tension between seeking forgiveness and facing the consequences of one's actions. Despite his efforts to atone for his sins through religious devotion and community service, he cannot escape the weight of his guilt. Is true redemption ever possible?
The Argentina-Mexico Interconnectedness
The film touches on the theme of identity and how it is shaped by our experiences and relationships. Paul's character, who undergoes a heart transplant, grapples with the idea of a new identity forged by the life-saving organ he receives. His obsession with the donor's family reflects a deeper search for connection and understanding of his existence. This quest for identity and meaning is a central theme in 21 Grams, illustrating the complex ways in which our lives are intertwined with those of others.
Quite dark and somber, in contrast to the other works of his oeuvre, viewers reflect on life, death, and the human soul. Its intricate narrative, powerful performances, and philosophical depth make it a compelling and thought-provoking work of cinema. By exploring the interconnectedness of human experiences and the profound impact of our actions on others, the film offers an interesting reflection on the fragility and resilience of the human spirit.
The haunting score, composed by the legendary Argentinian Gustavo Santaolalla, from accordion to fingerpicking guitar, Santaolalla complements the film's tone and emotional intensity. His compositions often contain that Latin, melodramatic tenderness to the film. His deeply moving, yet somber tunes, are an important additional layer in the storytelling, eliciting compassion and understanding for the characters and their journeys.
There is no one like Santaolalla, known for his ability to evoke deep emotions in a minimalist way, through various instruments in an incredible series of films, from 21 Grams to Babel, Motorcycle Diaries and Biutiful to Brokeback Mountain, and even video games such as The Last of Us.
21 Grams stands out for its thematic exploration of the moral complexities of human life. It delves into the gray areas of morality, where humans are neither purely good nor purely evil. This nuanced portrayal challenges the audience to empathize with each human being’s struggles and their motivations. The film's refusal to offer easy answers or clear-cut resolutions adds to its emotional and intellectual depth.
Many years after its release, 21 Grams still serves as food for thought of the fragility and resilience of women and men, and not to miss, hope, of the human spirit, offering an open mind for these synchronicities in the face of what life throws at you.
As Iñárritu, thankfully, continues to explore these themes in his subsequent works, such as Bardo, he solidifies, despite what critics and hate-drunk individuals ‘‘assume’’, his reputation as a visionary filmmaker, probably one of the best ever lived, unafraid to tackle norms, the profound questions of existence, the structures within interpersonal relationships and even international political systems, but above all, challenge rationalist dominance in a vastly disconnected society.
It is thanks to this director’s often ‘‘beyond-reality’’ films and by extension, other ‘‘surreal’’ art out there, that reality as we know it can be looked at and studied from beyond the reality as many have been boxed into.
