Syriana (2005)

Plan: Bob Barnes (George Clooney) is a CIA agent who specializes in, um, something. Don’t ask me. He blows some people up and later he gets tortured. Lawyer Bennett Holiday (Jeffrey Wright) is contracted by two oil companies, Connex and Killen (Chris Cooper works for one of them), to look into the companies’ dirty laundry so that their merger may be approved by Congress. Energy analyst Bryan Woodman (Matt Damon) accepts a position with the more radical prince (Alexander Siddig) and eldest son of the Emir of non-descript Middle Eastern country (Saudi Arabia?), while his more conservative brother (Akbar Kurtha) cozies up to another, more senior lawyer from Holiday’s firm, Dean Whiting (Christopher Plummer). Finally, two immigrants who are fired from one of Connex’ or Killen’s plants in non-descript Middle Eastern country join an Islamic school in order to eat.

Wow, that description is really long and captures almost none of what happens in the movie. Plus, I’m still unclear on a few of the character’s names. Just now I discovered that Woodman’s son’s name was Max.

Imagine, if you will, that the writer of Traffic (Steven Gaghan) decided to write something even more politically charged with an even more labyrinth-like plot. He decides to direct it, too, which, for a writer, guarantees creative control over the project. Ta-da! You get this movie. On the one hand, it beautifully scripted and acted. The film is highly engaging. On the other hand, it’s almost impossible to follow.

Take Clooney’s plot line for example. In a given scene, I know what’s happening to Bob, I know what’s already happened, and I have no clue what’s going to happen next. Worse yet, I’m not entirely sure how his past and his present are connected. Of course, this example skews your interpretation of the results since this is the plot I least understood.

Unlike Wright’s, which I have seen other critics sight as a source of confusion. No, my friends. Makes sense to me. Plus, you get another top notch performance from a chameleon who I would easily put in the same league as Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and I think we all know how I feel about him. Except for one thing: the sub-plot with Bennett’s alcoholic father (at least I assume that was his dad). Was it supposed to make me sympathetic to Bennett? Help me understand his motives? Bewilder me? Pick C!

I have to admit it – this was the first time I’ve liked Damon this century without him playing a bumbling, low-level thief. Sure, it upsets me just as much as the next girl when a child is sacrificed for the sake of plot development, but I guess you just have to let this sort of thing go. Unlike Amanda Peet’s four inch heels. Those pissed me off.

Odd as it may seem (for I don’t enjoy not knowing what’s going on), I rather liked this movie, even if it made no sense most of the time. The themes carried over the plot confusion, and it could have survived on the strength of the performances alone. B+