Review - Mass
Directed by: Fran Kranz
Written by: Fran Kranz
Starring: Reed Birney, Ann Dowd, Jason Isaacs, Martha Plimpton
Running Time: 110 minutes
Rating: 5/5
Mass in a time of war.
A quiet church, nestled in the outskirts of American suburbia. An impromptu choir practice echoes through the empty halls of the church basement. Papier-mâché hearts decorate the stained glass windows of a meeting room where four chairs await two families in mourning. Two couples enter, making their way through awkward small talk – the “how are you’s” to the “did you get here okay’s?” as if breaking through the tension slowly, a band-aid ready to pull off...they sit and wait.
Fran Kranz, who famously played “the stoner dude” from 2011’s pseudo-sci-fi-horror, The Cabin in the Woods, brings us one of the best films of 2021, Mass. Years after a tragedy affecting communities and families; two couples find the strength to face the fears within themselves in an effort to find solace in healing. In his directorial debut, Kranz masterfully weaves a portrait of empathy, emotional grief and trauma in a chamber piece that builds and builds into an immensely satisfying, cathartic conclusion. Gail and Jay (played by Martha Plimpton and Jason Issacs) finally meet with Linda and Richard (Ann Dowd and Reed Birney) after years apart. Their silence and hushed words speak volumes, almost seismic in their emotional weight. The lawyers and press are pushed aside for two hours of healing; an intimate, honest conversation that is uncomfortable in the four’s silence; their solemn words seething with absolute rage, regret and immense guilt. I don’t want to give the context away, as it is another example of the brilliance of Kranz’s screenplay; it miraculously unfolds with confidence – never giving away too much information immediately, almost dropping clues and revealing evermore the mystery and the reason why the two families have reconnected.
“Thoughts and prayers don’t always work, but time & words do. We all have a story to tell. ”
Mass’ absolute success is in its dynamic structure and execution from creative aspects; the simplicity of a bottle narrative with a minimal cast echoes the powerful enigma of the stage and theatre. The screenplay is woven tight with twists and turns that almost seem obvious but integral to the drama at its core. The four central performances are anchors to the emotional weight, with all four actors sharing almost equal amount of screen time, it never feels overburdened by its melodrama or boring in its single location. The direction isn’t necessarily flashy or noticeably stylistic, but it is powerful in its simplicity and voyeur, allowing the audience to eavesdrop in the most personal and painful conversations that, concerns a horror or loss that isn’t necessarily commonly shared. The events and acts mentioned in this film aren’t politicized or sensationalized; they are explored with a sense of grace and authenticity – Kranz is solely focused on the aftermath of such pain, an attempt of two sides to understand the impossible, to grasp the unchangeable and to find the courage and strength to accept the truth of such unconditional love.
Mass is a story that we hear and know about, but rarely talk about the days, the months and the life that comes after. Each of the four parents have their own stories, their own regrets, their own shame and their own ways of coping. There is a visceral ferocity and a haunting emptiness in every exchange, every glance and every shift in the seat. Mass presents four stories of coping in tragedy: Plimpton’s abrupt bluntness, Birney’s stoic but aloof meandering, Issacs’ ambivalent rage and Ann Dowd’s mournful silence. The film doesn’t shy away from the pain in suffering and trauma, instead tackling it head on as well as the pain in acceptance and forgiveness. The four parents enter the room with an unspeakable baggage in their hearts and Kranz gives them 110 minutes to grieve and find hope in a small room, together. Thoughts and prayers don’t always work, but time & words do. We all have a story to tell.
