'Day Night Day Night' review

Julia Loktev's film takes a look at the final days for a female suicide bomber

By Alexa Weibel
Published: June 3rd, 2007 | 8:37pm

The stereotypical suicide bomber doesn't wear Chucks or vainly request tissues to blot their shiny nose in anticipation of the farewell tape. Nor do they jump on beds in their final hours, or assure themselves repeatedly that "Everybody dies," frantically listing possible causes of death to atone for the path they've chosen. Yet the bomber of Julia Loktev's Day Night Day Night is an exception: trivial yet precocious, meek yet determined, driven by an unknown cause albeit hopelessly lost.

Nonetheless, this solemn, inanimate young woman - portrayed by Luisa Williams and dubbed only as “She” by the credits - has traveled cross-country to arrive in New Jersey in order to execute her mission, aided by a pointedly multiracial crew of collaborators. Presumably raised American, she has no accent, no definite ethnicity or visible alliance; like her conspirators, she reveals no system of beliefs, purpose, or plan.

According to the alluring protagonist, "I have only one death. I want my death to be for you." The film thrives on a dichotomy of tender moments, ranging from her whispered confessions to moments of heavy silence. She prepares for her first and final mission with a significantly protracted bathing scene - she meticulously scrubs every inch of her body, ostensibly preparing for death or simply killing time. The following morning, she executes her morning routine, emptying each product into the sink after use, then loudly chucking each one into the trash bin, with a harsh echo of finality - the end is clearly nigh.

At the suggestion of her co-conspirators, she creates a parting video. Her drab turtleneck and frumpy long skirt are deemed unsuitable for aesthetic purposes; instead, like a doll, she is outfitted with an army-green oversized coat and an artillery belt slung over her shoulder. A mere civilian and an orphan, at that, she is formulated into a Che Guevara-inspired icon, while the image of anonymous, gun-wielding militant troops is flaunted in the background. One cannot help but notice her role as puppet, a lost girl manipulated by her collaborators. The color palette of the film further projects her innocence - the bright pink of her personal items differ starkly from the drab blues and grays of her surroundings.

She arrives at her final destination, Times Square, much the wide-eyed bewildered tourist, alone in a sea of strangers. She orders two pretzels, taking the time to specify “with mustard” - hardly an appropriate priority for a suicide bomber moments before death. Her uncertainty continues as she orders a slew of snacks - a candied apple, a tomato slice, pudding - further postponing the inevitable. She pauses to pet a toy dog, then, on a street corner, is painfully aware of her surroundings and purpose: Long shots following her gaze focus on the humanity of individuals chatting, playing with their hair, holding hands.

To the very end, the protagonist's motives remain unknown - indubitably in an effort to make her appeal universal - but, in being so, fall hopelessly flat. The film represents the calm before a storm - although its success is curtailed by lack of meaning, its silence is deafening.