Elephant
I’m not Gus Van Sant’s biggest fan, but he likes to prod the viewer—and he does here. For a film about a looming school shooting, it’s disarmingly beautiful: gliding long takes, autumn light, tracking shots that turn corridors into cathedrals. Elephant withholds explanations, letting ordinary moments bank up like storm clouds.
We meet the students one by one. No one’s celebrating anything; each gets a small, unsmiling slice of life. The design seems plain: draw us close so the later blow lands harder. It works, but it also feels manipulative—the film racks up empathy in small details and then spends it all at once.
What’s exploitative isn’t the violence, which Van Sant keeps cool, but the clockwork dread. From early on you know what’s coming; the suspense is when. I was left torn: impressed by the craft, uneasy about the calculus. Elegant, unsettling—and, for me, more exercise than insight.
We meet the students one by one. No one’s celebrating anything; each gets a small, unsmiling slice of life. The design seems plain: draw us close so the later blow lands harder. It works, but it also feels manipulative—the film racks up empathy in small details and then spends it all at once.
What’s exploitative isn’t the violence, which Van Sant keeps cool, but the clockwork dread. From early on you know what’s coming; the suspense is when. I was left torn: impressed by the craft, uneasy about the calculus. Elegant, unsettling—and, for me, more exercise than insight.
Mini Review: I’m not Van Sant’s biggest fan, but he prods the viewer here. Elephant, about a looming school shooting, is disarmingly beautiful: gliding long takes, autumn light, corridors like cathedrals. Explanations are withheld, ordinary moments bank up like storm clouds. Students drift through unsmiling slices of life, empathy accrued then spent in a blow. The violence is muted, the dread mechanical. Elegant and unsettling, I left torn—admiring the craft, uneasy with the calculus.
Watch the Trailer