Elephant (2003)

With the atrocity of the Columbine massacre still fresh in many American minds, Gus Van Sant has a go here at imagining some of the psychological and societal causes that drove two ostensibly ordinary college lads to arm themselves to the hilt and take to the corridors of their school with devastating effects. "Alex" (Alex Frost) and "Eric" (Eric Deulen) are unremarkable in almost every aspect of their teenage, angsty, lives and are surrounded by a flock of personalities which tick almost every box when it comes to that dreaded expression - "coming of age". There are even a group of girls who engaged in some synchronised post-lunch vomiting, but we mainly focus on the floppy haired "John" (John McFarland) whose alcoholic father (Timothy Bottoms) is constantly trying to rebuild a relationship with his increasingly distant son - a new arrival at this large and anonymous institution. The chronology doesn't help. Or does it? By watching two lads dressed in fatigues with fully stocked kit bags walk into the building near the start of the film - and recapped a few times thereafter - we know what is going to happen - albeit we don't see the faces of the perpetrators. Does that rob the film of jeopardy or does it rather bravely suggest that this film is more about investigating the causes of their behaviour than it's results? Large scale education has been likened to an ant-hill. People coming and going in an almost factorial procession with little opportunity for individuality or to stand out. What better way for two people to make their presence felt? Is it a cry for attention or is more the result of endless hours playing shoot 'em up video games where targets make points and points make... prizes? It's quite subtly ramming that disconnect down our throats disguised as teenage hormonal norms and there I felt it quite subliminally effective: with the geeks and nerds; the handsome and the less so; the popular and the shunned all subject to the same rather arbitrary "justice" of two guys whose connection with any sort of normal reality had been well and truly severed. On that front, I felt that Frost, especially, managed by a combination of an understated less-being-more style of characterisation and some disarmingly potent dialogue to exemplify the peculiarities of a friendship rooted in emotional and physical ambiguity and increasingly ambivalent to the effects of their actions on others. Revenge? Maybe. Or perhaps more a cry just to be noticed, valued, respected? It's divisive and controversial, and the refrains of the beautiful "Für Elise" on the piano add an extra dimension of calmness to the calculated nature of a denouement that is almost surreal and is this is probably my favourite feature from a director who is no stranger to quirky self-indulgence.