Munich (2005)

Premise: After 11 Israeli athletes are murdered at the 1972 Olympics, Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen) asks former bodyguard Avner (Eric Bana) to lead a team to find and kill the 11 men responsible for that bloody day. Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) connects Avner with a getaway driver, Steve (Daniel Craig); a clean-up man, Carl (Ciaran Hands); a toy-designing bombmaker, Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz); and a documents expert, Hans (Hanns Zischler). Avner makes a contact with a man of no political accord, Louis (Mathieu Amalric), who trades information for an extravagant fee.

I'm just going to get the little stuff out of the way, so I can move on to the big issue at hand.

If the real Golda Meir was anything like Cohen's portrayal, that she was one of the most amazing women to ever walk the earth. To reconcile such a difficult political and religious decision while still acting like everyone's favourite spunky grandmother is an impressive feat.

Bana continues to astonish as a dramatic actor, mining the doomed dramatic fate business he took on in Troy. Avner's almost compulsive need for their victims to understand why they had to die was utterly compelling. It's difficult to imagine such a squeamish assassin, given that his squeamishness was more moral than physical.

All of the team worked together splendidly, but it was with a touch of sadness that I watched Craig as a hip swaggering, blood thirsty, accent nailing South African. He's so great a chameleon that you can hardly recognize him from role to role, and I'm more than a little sorry that we are going to lose him to 007 for at least the next few years. Oh, well, maybe he'll do one flick and quit. I can dream, right?

I would like to take a moment to point out how distractingly stylish Louis was. Open market shopping on a Parisian bridge, double breasted suit, three different patterns? What does this man want from me?

John Williams steals music, "era of the musical footnote" be damned. The under current of tension that he builds to such dramatic heights (with texture instead of dynamics) leading up to the first kill is powerful . . . until you realize that it's putting you in mind of Bernard Hermann's fantastic work in Psycho.

Eric Roth's screenplay, with touch ups by Tony golden boy Tony Kushner? Excellent.

Moving right along to the matter at hand: my relationship with director Steven Spielberg. Sometimes, a lot of the times even, I wonder what the big deal about Spielberg is. After all, the man doesn't direct movies, he directs events. To be honest, I've only seen a dozen or so, and I haven't fallen head over heels for many (maybe Catch Me If You Can and Saving Private Ryan).

And yet, with the exception of one sequence toward the end, this work was flawless. All the right notes hit and never without exceptional consideration and purpose. When he filled the screen with his final shot, I actually muttered, "son of a bitch." He's just that good.

I feel as though I should point out how heavy this movie is. I could barely lift my shoulders, utter a sound, or maintain a thought for hours afterwards. It doesn't mean that you shouldn't see it, and immediately, but simply that you should prepare yourself. A

P.S. Saw Martin Scorsese on Dinner For Five yesterday, making yesterday one of the greatest days ever.