Despite Pitt and intriguing plot, Babel underwhelms

Babel acts and looks like a cutting-edge drama of international correlation and racially-driven political tension, but ultimately proves a decidedly compromising attempt at significance. Alejandro González Iñárritu showed vast potential with his previous stateside submission, 21 Grams, but his newest project rarely shakes the feeling of grasping for something just of out reach.

For those unaware, the film seeks to interlace four disheartening stories together in order to display how one remote event in the deserts of the Middle East can spark an international chain reaction. It does so by jumping between various locales - jumping that at times causes confusion, with its scatterbrained chronology that complicates things for no apparent reason.

The quartet of stories are undeniably stirring and masterfully articulated, in some instances doing in five minutes what other movies wish they could do in two hours.

Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett feature in the most heavily publicized of the four (star power gets things like this rolling, after all), and although impressively acted their storyline is less compelling than the ones located in Mexico and Japan. The Gael García Bernal-supported joy-ride in Mexico reveals emotion not often observed in the argument over illegal immigration.

But the most hypnotic of the four stories, set to the vibrant pulse of a deaf girl's angst in Japan, captivates due not to international intrigue but to the suffering of puberty, lust, and grief.

Talented actors (including Dakota Fanning's younger sister, Elle) emit heartfelt desperation in all of the episodes, though to what end it is unclear. Everyone involved wants to believe his or her message is an important one, even if the message goes unobserved by the viewer.

Their plights are all readily evident, but whereas another film in recent memory also presented an assortment of various storylines about race and dialogue, it at least presented them all under a unified front. And there, few if any of the plotlines felt forced when they "crash"-ed together. Three of Babel's stories tie together decently enough, but the Japan addition appears tacked on only to make sure Tokyo feels included. Too bad, because by itself it engrosses the viewer but, in addition to the others, adds unneeded baggage.

Multi-layered to be sure, superb acting on all fronts, and visually the most arresting film since last year's The Constant Gardener, it mentions a lot of issues in global society but seemingly only to show off the filmmakers' personal appreciation for how messed up things are. A mesmerizing collage of cultural sounds and images, the collection of episodes loses steam when it attempts to form a coherent whole.

It begins with little thunder and ends with Tinseltown predictability. Deportation, family reunion, incoming calvary … what pretends to be chance realism seems an awful lot like formulaic inevitability.

Undoubtedly many will suggest the opposite, that it is indeed unpredictable, a must-see, and powerfully haunting. Yet Babel is most haunting not because of its message, but because it is sad to see something that deserves to soar merely glide.