All the elements are in place for one to be moved by the tragedy evoked in this story of a house and two cultures clashing. I watched with anticipation as the
story progressed, and was curious enough to follow the action to the end. But there was something about the cold, funeral tone the film employs that actually kept its tragic turn of events at arms length. The camera moves at such a measured pace, capturing colors soft and muted, that a sense of solemn doom hovers over all that happens from the very beginning. The movie's entire visual concept directs our emotions, never giving us breathing room to discover for ourselves how we feel about what's going on. The film makers want you to take this as a meaningful and important story, but they don't actually seem to trust the very basic emotions that can and will emerge when real estate, or more specifically one's home, hangs in the balance of conflict. Jennifer Connelly's character is just too passive for this gloomy rendering to play. If she was played fiery and impulsive, the movie's tone would have had something to contrast it. And Kingsley's Iranian patriarch is too noble and introspective to make his moment of horror produce anything but respectful nods. It's like the director wants to have Kingsley's character both ways - a stern father and a noble immigrant; but it's all too politically correct for genuine drama. The actor ends up playing within a very narrow parameter and nothing can really take off; there's no fire left by the time we reach the film's ultimate tragedy. Shohreh Aghdashloo, who plays Kingsley's wife, is the only one in the cast who gets a chance to move us. She plays each scene with an organic feel for what is happening. We empathize because she's the only one in the movie who seems to have personalized what it means to be in constant conflict, her thoughts at odds with what she's saying. Her Nadi is a displaced woman who's learned, through experience what a displaced woman must do to survive. When she slams the bathroom door on her husband and son to preserve Connelly's dignity after a suicide attempt, we glimpse the rage of an entire culture. She is breathtaking. The film is to be taken, I think, as a social and political metaphor; in this suburban conflict we are meant to perceive global significance. Hence the funeral tone and superficial rendering of character and action. But it seems to me that if the story was simply told, without directing our attention to its meaning, we would have gotten all that, and actually discovered within ourselves the emotional connection that such a story produces. But the way it is, I kept wondering why Connelly didn't go down to that screwed up tax office and pitch a tent on their doorstep. .
story progressed, and was curious enough to follow the action to the end. But there was something about the cold, funeral tone the film employs that actually kept its tragic turn of events at arms length. The camera moves at such a measured pace, capturing colors soft and muted, that a sense of solemn doom hovers over all that happens from the very beginning. The movie's entire visual concept directs our emotions, never giving us breathing room to discover for ourselves how we feel about what's going on. The film makers want you to take this as a meaningful and important story, but they don't actually seem to trust the very basic emotions that can and will emerge when real estate, or more specifically one's home, hangs in the balance of conflict. Jennifer Connelly's character is just too passive for this gloomy rendering to play. If she was played fiery and impulsive, the movie's tone would have had something to contrast it. And Kingsley's Iranian patriarch is too noble and introspective to make his moment of horror produce anything but respectful nods. It's like the director wants to have Kingsley's character both ways - a stern father and a noble immigrant; but it's all too politically correct for genuine drama. The actor ends up playing within a very narrow parameter and nothing can really take off; there's no fire left by the time we reach the film's ultimate tragedy. Shohreh Aghdashloo, who plays Kingsley's wife, is the only one in the cast who gets a chance to move us. She plays each scene with an organic feel for what is happening. We empathize because she's the only one in the movie who seems to have personalized what it means to be in constant conflict, her thoughts at odds with what she's saying. Her Nadi is a displaced woman who's learned, through experience what a displaced woman must do to survive. When she slams the bathroom door on her husband and son to preserve Connelly's dignity after a suicide attempt, we glimpse the rage of an entire culture. She is breathtaking. The film is to be taken, I think, as a social and political metaphor; in this suburban conflict we are meant to perceive global significance. Hence the funeral tone and superficial rendering of character and action. But it seems to me that if the story was simply told, without directing our attention to its meaning, we would have gotten all that, and actually discovered within ourselves the emotional connection that such a story produces. But the way it is, I kept wondering why Connelly didn't go down to that screwed up tax office and pitch a tent on their doorstep. .