A Masterfully Crafted Film

Steven Soderbergh's Traffic is one story with many threads -- interwoven, snagging and opposing threads that all come together beautifully. The movie is about the dismal failure that America's drug war has been, and the ways in which race and class are two of the primary characters in that war. It's possible, though, to watch the film simply as a masterfully crafted, flawlessly acted work and not pay much heed to the unabashedly left-wing politics -- possible but not too likely. Soderbergh, whose Erin Brockovich was also social and political commentary wrapped up in the populist formula of the underdog triumphing, is that rarity in modern film -- someone with a political conscience, the courage to use it, and the burning desire to make real art. He's one of the best and most important directors working in Hollywood right now.

Working with an ensemble cast that reads like a who's who of both mainstream Hollywood and the indie film worlds, Soderbergh bounces his story and cast from one location to the other -- Tijuana, Ohio, Washington D.C., California, Illinois -- in order to convey the pervasiveness of drug culture and trafficking in Northern America. Michael Douglas (low-key but effective) plays Robert Wakefield, an Ohio State Supreme Court Justice who's appointed the new anti-drug czar by the President. Naturally, he's oblivious to the presence of drugs under his own roof, with dire consequences to be paid for that ignorance. On the flip side of the divide, when drug lord Carlos Ayala (Steven Bauer) is arrested, his glamorous wife Helena (a pregnant Catherine Zeta-Jones) finds out the source of her husband's wealth and is drawn into his dealings in order to preserve her lifestyle as much as save her husband. Between these two worlds are the cops on both the Mexican side of the border and the U.S. A soulful, brilliant performance by Benicio Del Toro illuminates the character of his Mexican police officer who is poorly paid, surrounded by corruption, but still pure of motive himself. On the U.S. side, Don Cheadle and Luiz Guzman (two fantastic and underrated actors) are undercover cops whose partnership is defined by affectionate but biting one-liners tossed at each other.

Soderbergh has captured a world in which cynicism and hypocrisy are par for the course, whether in boardrooms or sitting rooms of the wealthy. Politics are thoroughly tainted and even the good guys resort to dirty deals in order to score their points. But one of the things that makes Traffic so very good is the wry humor that's laced throughout the film. It's a funny movie. Whether observing the ennui of spoiled suburban white kids, the murderous determination of Zeta-Jones' character as she barks orders in her cell phone, or the back-and-forth between Cheadle and Guzman, the film is smartly funny throughout. That's necessary given the overall bleakness of the tale, the sad sense of futility and wasted lives that fill the screen. The other element that makes the film soar is the acting. In a large ensemble in which familiar faces pop out of the woodwork at every turn (but never simply feel like stunt-casting), the performances are never less than good, and are frequently a revelation. Benico Del Toro finally has a role worthy of his enormous talent, and he commands the screen when he's on. Salma Hayek, in a small but crackling part, is sexier and more winning than in any of her previous gigs. (It's likely that speaking in her first tongue -- Spanish -- afforded the actress a comfort level she hasn't had in her other Hollywood films.) And Zeta-Jones finally lives up to the hype. As an actress, she naturally exudes a kind of coldness, a ruthlessness that almost short-circuits the sex goddess persona that's been crafted for her in the media. Here, she gets to dive right into those darker currents, and she's better than she's ever been.

Soderbergh experiments with technique and style in order to place the viewer not only in differing geographical landscapes but psychological ones as well. It could have been a self-conscious and failed effort, but he's at the top of his game and pulls it off effortlessly. And as proof of just how gifted he is with actors, in a film in which there is gunfire and mafia assassination, the most violent scene in the film is one in which a husband and wife (Douglas and Amy Irving) spar bitterly about their relationship. The gunfire and bombs in the film make us jump; their exchange makes us gasp and shudder.