Brad Pitt as Richard in “Babel” (2006)
“Babel” came at a crucial point in Brad Pitt’s career, shouting a reminder from one of the highest towers of his post-’90s filmography in plain American English: Brad Pitt is a good actor. Take a gander at the megastar’s repertoire, and you’ll find it easy to draw two columns: pre-“Babel” and post-“Babel.” His work with David Fincher and his Oscar-nominated turn in “12 Monkeys” during the ’90s started to fade from memory after stuff like “The Mexican,” “Troy,” and “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” threatened to box him into some popcorned hybrid of action star and romantic lead in the 2000s. In comes Mr. Iñárritu, with an ensemble piece and his final instalment of the “Death Trilogy,” lighting Pitt’s way forward like a beacon, towards ‘Jesse James,’ ‘Benjamin Button,’ and “The Tree Of Life.” For the first time in his entire career, Pitt doesn’t stick out, and with his performance as Richard, for all intents and purposes a boringly average schmoe, he juggles grieving father, deflated husband, and temperamental American with perfectly proportioned poise, demonstrating how seamlessly he can camouflage his Hollywoodishness when necessary. Shedding his superstardom, with zero elbow-room to maneuver his quirky comedic talents, Pitt gives one of his simplest, most humble and achingly human performances as a man lost on foreign land, both as a husband in a tenuous marriage rocked by the death of a child, and as an American tourist in Morocco during politically unstable times. After his wife is critically wounded, the key scenes of “Babel’s” excommunicated emotions in the Moroccan segment lie with Richard, and Pitt turns away from every chance to phone it in and make a grandstanding play. Speaking of phones, the conversations Richard has on them are some of the film’s highlights, and those tricky but well-played scenes are a good indicator of the turn Pitt’s career would take after Iñárritu’s modern mosaic of miscommunication grounded his talents, and affirmed his place in the very top drawer of his generation.
Gael García Bernal as Octavio in “Amores Perros” (2000)
If “Amores Perros” is the ‘Mexican ‘Pulp Fiction,” then Gael García Bernal, in being the film’s biggest breakout, is probably the Mexican Samuel L. Jackson. We’ve talked about Echevarría’s nuanced turn as El Chivo, the anchor to a frenzied, wonderfully wild ride, but in our view, it’s a tight race to the finish line between the former and García Bernal (billed as Gael García at the time). What truly helps make ‘Perros’ into one of the most memorable feature debuts of the past 30 odd years is its catapulting of this obscure young Mexican actor from the gutter to the stars on first launch. This is García Bernal’s first role on a feature film, which makes us dizzy with awe every time we think about it (Jackson by comparison had years of bit parts and supporting roles behind him when ‘Pulp’ came along). Octavio —hapless, manic, desperate— is a tragic figure of Shakespearean proportions; in love with his brother’s wife, desperate to break free from his surroundings, and never wearing the right boots for the amount of shit he steps into. The role couldn’t have given the young gun a more suitable entrance, and the range he shows —playing doting, conflicted brother-in-law, fearless brother, proud dog-owner, and frenetic driver, among other parts— could put a roomful of veteran thesps to shame. As he laughs, charms, head-butts, worries, and bleeds his way into our hearts, we see a part of dumb exuberant youth that we can’t help but connect to, thanks to his raw and organic performance. He cut his teeth and grew his canines in one remarkable film, and he’s been impressing us ever since, including his welcome return for Iñárritu as Adrianna Barraza’s sleaze-bag nephew in “Babel.”
