Mass

Mass
Starring Martha Plimpton, Jason Isaacs, Ann Dowd, Reed Birney
Directed by Fran Kranz

I've seen countless movies in my life, and have endured some of the hardest visuals to see. From a psychotic woman trying to take an unborn child out of a single mother to unmentionable events happening to peoples' genitalia, I've seen it all, and have felt the profound sense of tension and unspeakable horror that have graced my eyes. "Mass" is a film that hits on an entirely different level, a film that doesn't rely on elaborate set pieces, grotesque effects, or intense music to create the tension, dread, and the strong desire to look away. Instead, it seems like the simplest of concepts, a movie that could've been produced from a stage play, but the end result is nothing short of emotionally damaging - because the conversation the film centers around is all too real, and all too typical in today's world. I can get by with seeing films like "Inside," "Antichrist," "A Serbian Film," and the like because there's a detachment from reality in them, but "Mass" is the total opposite - it's firmly rooted in reality, and proves that reality is sometimes more horrifying than anything any horror maestro could come up with.

Six years after a mass school shooting, Jay (Jason Isaacs) and his wife Gail (Martha Plimpton) agree to meet with parents Richard (Reed Birney) and Linda (Ann Dowd) in the basement of an Episcopalian church to discuss the events of that fateful day. Jay and Gail lost a son. Richard and Linda also lost a son, but it's because their son was the killer, who killed himself afterward. As the couples talk about the events that transpired, the warning signs missed, the aftermath of the event, and everything in-between, it serves as a cathartic moment that, while not easy, was something they all needed to do in order to heal in their own personal ways.

"Mass" is a film that really shouldn't exist, but does due to the fact that somehow, some way, in some fashion, America - whom everyone thinks is an incredibly civilized country - has to deal with the concept of school shootings several times a week, year after year. It's an epidemic that doesn't stop, and there's more than one finger to point blame at, but thankfully the film doesn't focus on the politics of gun control, mental health, or any political leanings of the parents - instead, it strips it all down and introduces us to four hurting people, people we see on the street, people we know in real life...people like us. Their conversation is incredibly raw and personal, and doesn't hold back on the concepts of blame, sorrow, regret, sadness, hurt, and eventually healing, understanding, love, and forgiveness to move on with their lives in order to fully heal. It's tense, emotional, and one of those films that makes you feel wholly uncomfortable watching it, and all the more knowing that these conversations probably exist in real life all too many times.

Jay and Gail lost their son in the bloodbath caused by Richard and Linda's son, and they want closure six years later. They want to know what was going through Richard and Linda's son's head before the event occurred, and why the parents didn't do anything to stop him. It'd be understandable to have this conversation shortly after the event, but this is six years later. Six years of pain, of doubt, of unrelenting bitterness and resentment that simmered in their hearts, and they just need answers. Yet answers aren't always that simple, and even though you demand and need it, sometimes there just isn't any.

On the flip side, Richard and Linda have had their own crosses to bear (an apt metaphor, since Richard and Linda are sitting in front of the big wooden cross that hangs behind them), as they've endured the scorn and resentment of the town for their son's hideous action, and their own inability to effectively mourn like their son's victims' families did. They couldn't find a church to hold a service for their son. They couldn't find a place to bury him because no church would allow it. They had to mourn in secret, and in an incredibly moving line, Richard said, "The world mourned ten victims, we mourned eleven." You feel for them despite their son's unspeakable crime, yet there's moments where they seem to hold back information, as if to still protect their son despite the actions he committed.

Before the two couples meet, the film is filled with tension as the church prepares for their visit. It's painfully cringy to watch as one of the church workers tries to get the room set up, while the couples' lawyer (I think, they didn't really say who she was) coldly addresses the woman and how she messed up in certain aspects of setting up the room (such as telling her not to put the tissue box on the table, or that she has too much food). It's only the beginning of the uncomfortable journey that only escalates once the two couples meet.

From that moment, the cringe factor rises to eleven, as Linda comes with a gift - a small pot of flowers - which itself becomes the center of the unbearable meeting that's about to unfold. There's pleasantries at the start with general discussions about life, but soon all the niceties are thrown away for a full-blown emotional brawl, a no-holds-barred journey into the desire to find answers that just aren't there, and dealing with the immeasurable pain and loss that everyone in the room faced, but for vastly different reasons.

The script was written and the film was directed by first timer Fran Kranz, an actor who's best known for his role as the stoner in the hit film "The Cabin in the Woods." Years later, Kranz has grown into a deeply intelligent and introspective person, who's writing is too on-the-nose to not be appreciated and whose direction was top-notch. There wasn't much camerawork being done, but rather it focused on the four individuals in the story, serving as a sort of chamber piece as the events of the film almost entirely take place in that small room - a room that we wish we could leave at any moment, but which keeps us firmly locked in like its participants on screen (although they're not locked in, it feels like they're all trapped in cages of their own creation).

For a film of this caliber to work, you need the acting chops of four great performers to hold the line, and thankfully Kranz cast impeccable actors to play their roles to painful perfection. Jason Isaacs' Jay is at first very methodical and sincere, not wanting his wife to turn the meeting into an inquisition, but as the film continues you see the boiling pot that's been bubbling under Jay's feet, and it's only a matter of time before it goes off. Conversely, Martha Plimpton's Gail is the opposite. At first she's confrontational and demanding, sitting with her arms firmly crossed in front of her as a physical protective shield, but as the movie continues she opens up more and reveals her fears about losing the memory of her son in the process of unforgiveness.

Subsequently, Richard and Linda have to atone not just for their son's actions, but why they never saw the warning signs before the event occurred. At first, they're both on the defense, putting up emotional walls that they've had to erect since the start of this whole ordeal six years earlier, but also as the film progresses, these walls also come crumbling down, opening themselves up to the ridicule and resentment, but also the sense of forgiveness that arrives as well. Reed Birney's Richard is the most stoic of the four, the only one who comes dressed up, and the one who bears the emotional weight deep under the surface. He clearly doesn't want to be there, and insists at the start that he has to be on a plane that afternoon, and you sense that he's very controlling and commanding, and who is still trying to protect his son's memory. Ann Dowd - in a career-best performance - plays Linda the opposite. She is sorrowful and pained by what her son did, and yet she struggles with his actions with her own love for him, and trying to understand herself what happened to her boy. Her final moments are easily the most tear-inducing, serving as the effective gut punch to the audience in a film filled with gut-punches, open-mouthed gasps, and quiet reflections.

This is a film that shouldn't exist, because it tackles issues that should never occur, but unfortunately they do all too frequently, and instead of pointing fingers and assigning blame, we need to come together to find a true resolution to these unspeakable acts - otherwise they'll be more meetings like this, more lives lost, more lives affected, and more unnecessary pain inflicted. Rightfully, this isn't wholly a political agenda talking point, even though it's come to that, but instead it's a deeply personal event that shapes, defines, and changes the lives of those affected forever.

Incorporating one setting with four awards-worthy performances, "Mass" tackles the tough issue of mass school shootings in a deeply personal way that isn't bogged down by political or ideological agendas but rather strips it down to its bare form - dealing with grief, and seeking forgiveness when it seems impossible.

The Score: A+