Mass (2021 | USA | 110 minutes | Fran Kranz)
A film about finding some way forward after experiencing unimaginable loss, Mass is a punishing and profound debut film from actor turned writer-director Fran Kranz. It also happens to be a film that was shot very close to where I grew up in a small town in Idaho, adding an unexpected layer of familiarity and heartbreak to an already deeply affecting piece of work.
The simple yet devastatingly effective story is that two sets of parents, united by tragedy, have come together in a church basement to talk through what happened. Ann Dowd’s Linda and Reed Birney’s Richard raised a son that would later go on to undertake a mass shooting that killed the son of Jason Isaacs’s Jay and Martha Plimpton’s Gail. The extended conversation that follows is a simply staged masterclass that gives all the room to the actors to command the film.
Before getting into how painful it is to see such crushing grief and loss captured, it is worth praising Kranz for the confidence to undertake a debut like this. If you aren’t familiar with his prior work up until this point, the most memorable role I remember him for was as Marty, the stoner who saves the day in 2011’s meta horror-comedy The Cabin in the Woods. To say this film is about as far possible from that would be an understatement.
The best aspect of Kranz’s work in this film is his writing. His direction is intentionally simple and serviceable, an aspect of the film that is primarily meant to make room for the story. The writing itself is where it all shines. The film begins as painfully stilted and uncomfortable as anything you will see this year. The way that the discussion progresses from first dancing around the tragedy to becoming all about the emotionally wrought journey through grief commands your attention. It is not an easy watch, looking at the impacts of loss and almost never blinking.
A series of small opening scenes, before the all equally outstanding main cast arrive, shouldn’t go unmentioned. Though she only gets a few moments, Breeda Wool as Judy sets the stage perfectly. She is overly polite and doting, worrying about every detail about the church as if that could itself help to alleviate the underlying loss. The painful routines and rituals of human interaction create a tension that leaves you in agony. There is no avoiding what is happening and what has happened, yet the film does an incisive job of showing how people will avoid talking about what is on their mind for as long as humanly possible. It is, most interestingly, a tactic that many of the characters choose to pursue until it reaches a breaking point.
Only when someone finally speaks aloud the tragedy that brought them here is that pain given the oxygen to burn in opposition to misguided attempts to stifle it. A younger man working at the church, played by first-time actor Kagen Albright (who I actually recognized as being a local from growing up in the area), cuts through the silence by asking a question about what is going on. His name is Anthony and though he has a small role, his brief performance speaks volumes about how as we grow older we typically spend time avoiding what we all know is going on until it explodes out of us unrestrained.
That is the best way to explain the experience of the rest of Mass: a slow motion explosion or an inevitable car crash of emotion. The two families are on opposite sides of the tragedy in some ways, though the film never positions them as being intentionally in opposition to each other as people. They share a desire to find some understanding and connection, with an early scene depicting them sharing photos and memories of their children who are now forever gone. It shows how they are genuinely trying to be kind even as they feel deeply hurt.
In particular, Jay and Gail are both expertly rendered in their grief that is mixed with rage. They have spent years trying to find some sense of healing and it becomes clear that such a loss annihilates any possibility of fully finding well-adjusted normalcy. This loss will be something they carry for the rest of their lives and you can feel that all bottled up inside them. Even in just a subtle shared glance to a shift in tone, both Isaacs and Plimpton give the best performances of their career. When their rage that is seeking an outlet turns on the other parents it is hurtful, though understandable. They have lost so much.
The balance the film then strikes with the other parents is a complex tightrope to walk. Jay and Gail seek to blame them, pointing out where they may have overlooked warning signs that could have prevented the shooting. However, they all have the benefit of hindsight and it becomes clear that the parents were trying to support their son to help him navigate the isolation he was feeling. Whether it is their personal failure or not, the outcome was the same. The gut wrenching moments where they recount all that led to the shooting are terrible yet portrayed with deep honesty. It is a genuine glimpse of broken people trying to make sense of what may be a senseless event.
Dowd especially gives what is perhaps the quietest yet most resonant performance. She has done outstanding supporting work on shows like The Leftovers or in films like Hereditary, so it is nice to see her completely command center stage here. The word stage here is fitting as it feels more like a play than a strict film, akin to this year’s similarly arresting Small Engine Repair though even smaller in setting. However, it is not small in ambition as it gives shape and form to the aftermath of violence in an attempt to uncover if we can heal.
The rhythms of the conversations are rapid fire, with frequent interruptions and interjections when characters simply can’t let a moment pass. With moments of silence, Kranz effectively takes us back to a more serene scene that took place before the conversation. It is a gentle respite from the pain that keeps going and going with no sign of ever being healed. Over the ensuing minutes that may even become hours, the parents cover a lot of ground. They discuss everything from trying to see the systemic failings — of which there are many — to their own roles in the tragedy. It doesn’t offer a clear answer, instead leaving you with a final scene from Dowd that shows how far there is to go. However, even without resolution, it grants us a sense that we all can make progress even if it takes a deeply fraught journey to get there.
You can see Mass in theaters starting Friday, October 22.