Amores Perros, Alejandro González Iñárritu's stunning debut, was as groundbreaking, devastating, auspicious and from as far out of left field as Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs.  His equally impressive follow-up, 21 Grams, is nearly as accomplished as Pulp Fiction, and it should see just about as much action during awards season, as well.  The two pictures are worth mentioning in the same breath because of a similar non-linear way of storytelling involving fate, though Iñárritu's is much more challenging and far less gimmicky.

Iñárritu once again lends his vision to a Guillermo Arriaga screenplay involving a traffic accident with overwhelmingly tragic consequences told in three story threads, but it takes us a while to figure out exactly what transpired because everything is shown out of order (it's not episodic, like Perros, or Doug Liman's Go).  As a critic, it would be derelict of me to put it all together for you, especially since the utter confusion you're likely to experience in the first 10 minutes is an important part of the experience of seeing this film, so I'll just briefly outline Grams' three players:

Sean Penn (Mystic River) is Paul, a math professor with a bum ticker and a slightly ghoulish wife (Charlotte Gainsbourg, La Bûche) who desperately wants to become pregnant before Paul's sperm die along with him.  He's been given one month to live.

Naomi Watts (Le Divorce) is Christina, a happily married suburbanite with two kids and a darkish past filled with drug abuse.

Benicio Del Toro (The Hunted) is Jack, an ex-con who, despite serious reluctance on the part of his wife (Melissa Leo, TV's Homicide), became a Born Again Christian during his last stint in the pen.  Jack's prison tats get him fired as a country club caddy, but he works with troubled youth at his church, which is also where he won his spiffy new truck in a raffle.

Before long, one is dealing with loss, one is dealing with causing loss, and one is dealing with the loss of himself.  Each of the interconnected stories takes place in Albuquerque and involves salvation of some kind.  The religious slant starts to become a little too much from time to time, but it's really the only major flaw in the film.  Well, that and the part that resembles Bonnie Hunt's Return to Me, but that's a whole 'nother story.

You'll likely be lining up for the critically lauded acting (the three leads each won awards at the Venice Film Festival premiere of Grams), and the only way you won't be dazzled by it is if you're sitting in front of morons complaining out loud about not being able to follow what's happening (they're the same dolts who didn't get Punch-Drunk Love and All the Real Girls but just loved Sweet Home Alabama).  Watts is the standout here, mostly because it's been a while since we've really seen her in a serious film (Mulholland Drive).  Hers is the first Best Actress-quality performance I've seen this year.  Penn is solid, as usual, in a rather physical role, though his shot at Oscar glory will likely be foiled...by himself for his recent turn in Mystic River.  Del Toro's role is the most subtle and the one we connect with the least, but it's no less impressive than anything else he's done before.

Grams, whose title refers to the weight a human being is supposed to lose at the exact moment of their death, is just as gritty and audacious as Perros, thanks to photography from Rodrigo Prieto (he shot Frida, The 25th Hour and 8 Mile last year) and some of the year's best editing from Stephen Mirrione (the Traffic Oscar winner).  Iñárritu's work, however, is noticeably more mature here than it was in Perros.  He's become less Tarantino and more Soderbergh, and that's damn exciting considering the only things he's done between then and now are shorts for BMW's The Hire and the 11'09'01 collection.  Grams is the rare film you wish would be even longer because it's so good.

2:05 –

for language, sexuality, some violence and drug use