Synopsis
Columbus (2017) is a deeply humanist film that weaves art, architecture, and relationships into a tapestry of visual and emotional storytelling. The story follows Jin, the son of a renowned architectural scholar, who visits Columbus, Indiana when his father falls into a coma. There, he meets Casey, a young woman who has put her education on hold to care for her recovering addict mother. As their paths intertwine, they explore the architectural wonders of the city and confront the emotional burdens of their lives, particularly the bonds and obligations between parents and children.
Review of Colombus
Columbus stands out as a cinematic masterpiece with its contemplative sequences, distinct visual language, and meticulous attention to detail. Director Kogonada, known for his video essays on iconic filmmakers, brings his cinephilic passion to life in his directorial debut. The film employs static camera movements, unconventional framing, and the use of negative space to reflect the inner turmoil of its characters.
Cinematographer Elisha Christian captures the city's modernist architecture with breathtaking precision. The exteriors and interiors of Columbus’s iconic buildings become almost meditative, with each frame meticulously composed to invite reflection. The film’s lingering shots, combined with a calming soundtrack, allow the visuals and environment to breathe, creating a uniquely immersive experience.
Kogonada draws inspiration from cinematic masters like Yasujiro Ozu and Stanley Kubrick, evident in the use of "pillow shots," symmetrical framing, and environmental transitions. These influences are seamlessly integrated, paying homage while evolving the art form. Columbus demonstrates a profound understanding of "medium specificity," showcasing moments that could only be conveyed through the visual and auditory power of cinema.
Characters and Themes
The heart of Columbus lies in the nuanced relationship between Jin and Casey. Jin’s strained bond with his emotionally and physically absent father is mirrored in Casey’s sacrifices for her mother. Their conversations, framed against the city’s architectural marvels, provide solace and clarity for both characters.
The film's exploration of absence is particularly poignant. Jin is often framed with significant negative space, reflecting his feelings of emptiness and lack of fulfilment. Objects in his father’s hotel suite serve as subtle reminders of his father’s lingering presence. Similarly, Casey’s connection to her favourite building, a glass fortress, speaks volumes about her perspective on life and her unspoken dreams.
The dialogue between the characters is understated yet impactful. One striking scene, where Casey explains her love for the bank building, cuts off her audio at a key moment, leaving the audience to reflect on what was left unsaid. This deliberate use of absence—both physical and auditory—underscores the film’s themes of connection and distance.
Conclusion
For those seeking a visually stunning and emotionally resonant film, Columbus is an absolute treat. It reminds us of the unique power of cinema to convey feelings that no other medium can—a testament to its extraordinary "medium specificity."
