Zero Day

Zero Day (Ben Coccio, 2003) - B

One of the flurry of Columbine deconstructions released shortly after the tragedy; the thesis here is that armchair psychoanalysis of Harris and Klebold, labeling them angry goth outcasts and blaming violent video games and heavy metal music for stoking their rage, is embarrassingly facile and wrong. Obviously very incident-specific, and the rebuke to the media's treatment of Columbine is a little on the nose (we probably didn't need the scene of Andre and Calvin throwing their possessions in a bonfire to prevent their latter dissection, or the part where they angrily insist that there are no reasons, so don't look for any), but the effect is genuinely chilling -- and probably far closer to the "truth" than the conventional understanding (or lack thereof) of the Columbine perpetrators. The video diary gimmick doesn't quite work (there are some contrivances to justify why such-and-such is being recorded, as there usually are in movies like this), but Coccio pulls it off better than, say, the unjustly acclaimed My Suicide, which cheated left and right. He has a flair for effortless naturalism, too; casual conversations and momentary appearances by supporting players (parents; cousins; a girlfriend) ring totally true, as does much of Andre and Calvin's showboating for the camera. Their hip, knowing casualness (striking poses and calling themselves the "Army of Two") seems forced at first, but finally makes total sense; there are hints that they are motivated by petty revenge (bullying, being ignored, the like), but the movie never posits it as a "cause," and suggests that it may just be rationalization. Coccio speculates that they're really after transcendence and escape -- being a part of something awful and grand -- but ultimately doesn't insist on any interpretation. Obvious counterpoint is Gus Van Sant's Elephant; Zero Day is less artful, but more convincing.