'21 Grams'

The strangest thing about the unique structure of 21 Grams is how natural it feels. Upon learning that the narrative is constructed non-sequentially -- the film is a fractured mishmash of past, present and future á la Slaughterhouse Five -- one would presume that the resulting film is a cinematic Rubik's Cube that leaves viewers scratching their heads, trying to figure out what on Earth they just saw.

The structure, abrasive as it may sound, is quite easy to get used to and provides an interesting alternative to linear storytelling; when we are not as concerned with thinking about what will happen to the characters next, we can concentrate more on who the characters are.

In this case, the characters are so infused with vitality and detail that this technique proves to be a wise decision. Sean Penn, my favorite actor, portrays a dying mathematician at a level that is high, and yet, amazingly, I considered his to be the least impressive of the three lead performances. Naomi Watts takes strides in her raw portrait of a grieving widow, cementing herself as one of the best serious actresses in America. Last, but best, Benicio Del Toro plays an ex-con, whose born-again priorities are, at best, questionable. It is Del Toro's tortured performance that will linger the longest in viewers' minds.

21 Grams is directed by gifted Mexican import Alejandro González Iñárritu, who debuted, along with screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga, in 2000 with the superb Amores Perros. Like Perros, their second film chronicles three different stories, which intersect with a tragic car accident. Both films seem to be mainly concerned with love, death and coincidence, although the themes of each are refreshingly ambiguous.

-- Reviewed by Nicholas Norcia