True to the title of Gus Van Sant’s 2003 film, Elephant, school shootings still remain a proverbial pachyderm in the room for Americans. Just like our politicians who hem and haw whenever one of these events occur (still with alarming frequency to this day) and do nothing, most film directors steer clear of mass school shootings in their work. This is a subject too awful to comprehend, let alone something that shouldn’t be used for empty entertainment. However, in Mass, writer/director Fran Kranz presents an emotional and clear-eyed look at the devastating aftermath of a shooting in his debut feature.
The set-up is simple: two pairs of grieving parents agree to meet in a neutral room in the basement of a church to work through their pain. After using a mediator to get them into the room together, the four parents sit around a table and talk. And that’s about it. But like Roman Polanski’s Carnage (2011) without the satirical edge, Mass reveals a multitude of layers in its characters not only through dialogue but the sad silences that punctuate the film’s emotional crescendos.
Mass would not have worked without the dedication of its four actors. Gail (Martha Plimpton) and Jay (Jason Isaacs) have long-hoped to confront Linda (Ann Dowd) and Richard (Reed Birney), the parents of the child who murdered their son, Evan. Kranz gives his actors the room the work through the awkwardness of meeting for the first time before their true emotions emerge. How does one greet the parents of the kid who shot your son? Linda brings a vase of flowers she has arranged herself as a gift, one that Gail is hesitant to accept. Unlike the cellphone in Carnage, the arrangement isn’t played for laughs, but a symbol of whether or not to forgive.
Mass feels as if it plays in real time. Though the characters allude to a rich backstory rife with lawsuits, threats and trauma, these things are only mentioned but not spelled out. Otherwise too much exposition would ruin things. However, the emotional toll each character has experienced is evident without words. We eventually learn that Hayden, Richard and Linda’s son, killed 10 classmates before committing suicide. Evan didn’t even know Hayden, making the murder even more difficult for them to comprehend.
For a movie about trauma, Mass is very quiet. Though the parents do express their rage, much of the film is about the attempt to reach an understanding rather than nonstop shouting or fighting. Why meet if you’re only going to express rage? Mass also does something the media often doesn’t: shows us the trauma that the parents of a school shooter also endure. Imagine your child being the one who committed mass murder. Mass explores the grief, confusion, guilt and self-recrimination that Linda and Richard feel after Hayden’s crimes. How did something so horrible happen? Where did they fail?
Though Mass feels like a stage play, Kranz wisely keeps the cinematic tricks to a minimum and allows his actors to carry the film. An occasional flashback to a stark image of a bow on a barbed wire fence tries to instill symbolism of sorts, but things like that aren’t necessary. Mass also lingers a bit too long at the end, but as a reflection of not knowing where to go next, especially after carrying such a heavy burden for so long, such an ending may mirror the general confusion of its characters.
All four of the actors deserve recognition, but Dowd shines as the heartbroken mother of a school shooter. She never makes excuses for Hayden but refuses to dehumanize her son during the meeting. There simply is no explanation for his actions. More than anything, Mass forces us to look inward, especially parents, and confront our fears in a country that feels unsafe as we lose the war to guns. Could you ever understand? Could you ever move past the pain? Could you ever forgive?
Photo courtesy of Bleecker Street
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