“Columbus” Review: A Film of Hidden Gems

Discover the beauty hidden in Indiana by following the reserved Casey and stoic Jin learning to live.

The beauty of Columbus, much like the city itself, is subtle. Quiet. The visuals do not scream for the viewers attention and the characters only reveal when they’re forced to. Beauty is hidden within Columbus, but it is there. One just has to be willing to let themselves see it. 

This is the arc that the mirrored leads of Kogonada’s reflective 2017 drama have to work through: allowing oneself to feel. To appreciate. To live. If anything, Columbus is about passion, derived not from just the characters emotional journeys, but the film’s construction and attention to detail. It feels as though the architecture obsessed Casey herself was informing the shot list with how the film utilizes modernist feats for narrative development and thematic growth. Eventually, stylistic tendencies appear as visual motifs that intelligently reflect character. The static wides that dominate the film visualize Casey and Jin, two lost souls with deep attachment to Columbus or its inhabitants, as being dominated by their environment. Or, one could read these idyllic shots as the characters being swept up in their own admiration, leaving them complacent in their comfort; both themes the film explores with gorgeous, patient curiosity. With these informative and aesthetically breathtaking shots, the film develops a gentle atmosphere and meditative pace. Deeply contemplative, Columbus is effortless to watch with a purposeful pace that invites analysis from the viewer. The camera will punch into intense close-ups where the lead actors are allowed to convey so much with literal silence. In its consistent use of long takes, the film asks viewers to investigate the town and its inhabitants, who are revealed to be deeply realized and interesting characters.

Through a script that practices restraint with the same mastery as the camera, we are introduced to Casey and Jin. Casey, a recent high-school grad overflowing with love for architecture and low on ambition, encounters Jin, a Korean to English translator visiting town to care for his famous architect father. Jin’s never-ending spite for his father meddles with his ability to connect or allow himself the freedom to appreciate the architectural feats Casey adores. He refuses to let himself live, always avoiding the responsibility of connection. Meanwhile, Casey is the opposite of a globetrotter, voluntarily staying put in her zone of comfort. Through her passion and connection to her mother, Casey teaches Jin to love. Through his familial experiences and blossoming passions, Jin teaches Casey to live. It is easy to find oneself hooked on this dynamic, as the character’s perfect foiling is a delight to watch unfold. A satisfying viewing experience is inevitable when the story, themes, and characters are so tightly wound together that not a single scene feels out of place. This detail extends to the character’s dialogue itself; this script knows exactly what to say and when to say it. There’s subtle humor, information is revealed periodically to keep viewers engaged, and thematic consistencies are inscribed into nearly every line. While a film with this pace risks accusations of self-importance when two characters sit and talk for five minutes uninterrupted, I only ever found one instance where the script fell victim to its preaching its own values. When characters poetically muse in Columbus, it’s at the same time somehow realistic, entertaining, and thematically dense. 

Which I believe is the film’s ultimate strength. Columbus, save for a few scenes, feels like it was planned with the same level of detail as one of Casey’s adored buildings. This film is cohesive with a tight runtime under one hundred minutes. There is a strong thematic throughline that is cleverly and beautifully expressed through both character and visuals that unify for a clear and relatable message. It isn’t just that Columbus has beautiful cinematography. It isn’t just the fact that the performances are stellar. It isn’t simply that the editing and music add to the whimsical, drifting pace. Instead, it’s all of these elements working in unison towards a singular thematic point that makes Columbus a contemplative success.

Previous
Previous

“A Ghost Story,” The “Fake-Deep” Phenomenon, and the Impossible Subjectivity of Film Criticism

Next
Next

When Suits Meant Something