The life of Jin, a smart Korean guy, who finds himself trapped in Columbus, India, after the coma of his father, has been turned upside down, when he falls for a beautiful girl, with whom he discovers the beauty of the country.
[Columbus] unfolds in a series of grandly composed frames that range from fanatically symmetrical interior shots to boldly geometric exterior shots showcasing the local gems.
Kogonada's cleverly integrated use of the architecture, beautifully framed from visual and narrative standpoints, lends his freshman feature a sense of modernist mastery...
Rarely will images of mighty concrete and stone dwellings set against tranquil waters or a gentle spring shower resonate so powerfully as those on display every day in the southern Indiana city of Columbus, captured so breathtakingly in the film.
Each shot is meticulously composed without appearing mannered; the characters, often seen from a distance, make up an integral part of the landscape they occupy rather than being framed picturesquely against it.
It may take a little more effort and patience to appreciate what Columbus has to say about friendship, grief and courage, but the messages are worth that effort.
Kogonada in his impressive feature debut applies the principles of these architects to the compositions and structure of the film, a formal tour-de-force that eclipses its modest - though affecting and impeccably acted - narrative.
Columbus is a small, intimate film playing out on a big canvas, a personal drama set amongst titanic works. It's good actors doing good acting in a film shot by a master of composition.
Director Kogonada, in his impressive debut, conveys emotion through site and sound. He turns out to be a master of not just visual setting, but of conversational filmmaking, and his "Columbus" might just be a masterpiece
