Stars:
***
Rating: PG-13 for some violence and mature
themes
Run
Time: 2 hours, 2 minutes. In Dari and
English with English subtitles
Marc
Forester (“Finding Neverland”) adapts Khaled Hosseini’s wildly successful first
novel to the big screen with empirical grace.
Guilt is
the narrative thread running through a sprawling tale that spans two
continents, three decades and a world of hurt. Kabul, Afghanistan circa 1978 is
a cultural haven ripe with progress and promise. Twelve-year old Amir (Zekeria
Ebrahimi) lives a life of luxury as the son of well-to-do businessman Baba (Homayoun
Ershadi). He pals around with best friend Hassan (Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada) who
doubles as the son of the family’s beloved servant.
Standard
childhood mischief prevails; differences between Hazara and Pashtun be damned.
Hassan worships the ground Amir walks on, displaying his loyalty in subtle ways
both large and small. The boys join forces to run a kite in the annual Kabul kite
flying ceremony, culminating in a startling and rousing triumph.
But the
thrill of victory is short-lived, tainted by a shady act of cowardice that will
haunt Amir’s days for years to come.
The decay
of Afghanistan’s proud political scene deems it necessary for Amir and his
father to abandon home and country and relocate to Fremont, California (home to
the Bay Area’s largest Afghan community) where Dad toils at odd jobs and
encourages his son’s higher education and dreams of becoming a writer.
Years later
an urgent phone call from an old family friend is all it takes to send the
adult Amir (Khalid Abdalla of “United 93”) back to his shattered homeland and a
thorny date with destiny.
Forester
makes every effort to appease legions of Hosseini fans, of which I am one.
“Kite” is pleasingly faithful to its source material, weaving an enriching
tapestry of dramatic ethnicity and tradition. The dread is palpable,
particularly in modern-day Taliban -infested Kabul.
But a formulaic
blueprint screams crowd-pleasing rather than risk-taking. “Kite” pits good
against evil in oversimplified terms, an exercise in futility for enthusiasts of
dark emotional tones. Pacing is a bit rushed; a niggling feeling of something fundamental
left on the cutting room floor.
Performances
are sound, particularly that of the still-waters-run-deep Abdalla. Piece looks
wonderful, shots of Kabul pre and post-militia as silent witness to its skewed
politics.
Genuine if
not exactly inspiring.