Grief Counseling

 

MASS (A) - Rarely has a stage play built tension on the screen as effectively as this cathartic drama about two sets of parents -- one set whose son was the victim of a school shooting, and the other pair whose son was the shooter. This isn't so much grim as intense and challenging. It is erected and powered by four fine actors, none quite as effective as Martha Plimpton as the grieving mother of the victim.

This is the writing-directing debut from journeyman actor Fran Kranz, and while the film is visually ordinary -- it takes place almost entirely in a room in the back of a church -- the dialogue is pitch-perfect and the actors manage to wring out a range of emotions without once hamming it up.

Plimpton, a veteran of Chicago's Steppenwolf Theater, is Gail, an everywoman who is the moral and procedural center of the arranged summit. Her husband, Jay (an intense Jason Isaacs, who looks like Alec Baldwin stripped of vanity), takes his cues from Gail, while he reminds her of their mantra, which is to avoid interrogation. 

Reed Birney, another utility player on screen, plays the uptight and reserved father of the shooter, perpetually defensive and struggling to refrain from lashing out at the umpteenth accusation that he should have flagged his son's behavior and prevented the tragedy. Ann Dowd is his wife, Linda, an overly empathetic and weepy mother who aches to connect with the victim's parents. 

Dowd, surprisingly is the only one who can't quite find the right pitch throughout. But she acquits herself at the end with a final monologue that can rip your heart out. Linda's speech echoes one earlier from Gail, as both mothers try to put in words the pain of the lost tactile connection to their teenage boys. It's hard to imagine anyone not being moved by those two speeches.

Kranz cleverly bookends the gathering with light-hearted banter guided by church worker Judy (Breeda Wool), who awkwardly over-prepares the room and fumbles her way through introductions. The humor puts the gloom in perspective and lets the viewer tag out of the tension. It also grounds the story in realism; not everything is life and death. The nuances of small-time church operations are charming.

And while Kranz's hands are tied in this small room, what he loses in cinematography he makes up for with precise framing and editing. His script, too, is precise, with overlapping dialogue that creates a natural conversation that starts out icy but slowly evolves into a delicate detente between four damaged people. The simplified approach to a charged subject is audacious.