Most critics seem to find the first hour of the film superior to the second, which has been called histrionic or melodramatic. I suppose it is those things, but it is also immensely powerful, carrying the dramatic weight of true tragedy. The movie goes out of control at the same moment that the characters do, and their descent into disaster is reflected in the heightened and hyper-dramatic style of the film.
The screenplay is perfectly calibrated. No one, not even the cop, is truly evil, and everyone does what they have to do for their survival. This is why we can feel so bad when Jennifer Connelley's character is abandonded by her brother, or when the Colonel endures his own tragedies. We can feel for both of them, partaking in what Nietzsche felt was the lifeblood of human experience, that power that threatens to overwhelm us, but can also sustain us. (Sorry, just read The Birth of Tragedy.) Anyway, this film hits so hard because it shows an distinctly American tragedy, a search for "home" thwarted on all fronts, and it shows that while this country is a place where people go to fulfill their dreams, it is also a place where people go to watch those dreams evaporate. On second viewing, it's the moments where the connection between the characters is palpable, where it seems they have so much to give one another, that hit the hardest. All those missed chances for forgiveness and redemption are lost in the fog.
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