Simon takes the deception further by airing his musings in video chat sessions, where they are commented on in turn by his classmates and, eventually, their parents and other adults. Presented as an online chorus of arguments on such issues as whether martyrdom (or in this case, martyring your loved ones) could ever be considered heroic, the responses Simon gets are understandably heated. They're also unpersuasively long-winded, seeming to take place in a world where people have nothing better to do than pontificate angrily at their Webcams.
Though Egoyan is clearly intrigued by the potential uses and abuses of technology (a theme that dates as far back as his '80s catalog, including 1989's "Speaking Parts"), he abandons these notions in favor of an odd dramatic thrust, as Sabine pursues a meeting with Tom and asks meddlesome questions about how Simon's parents died. This and other secrets are revealed in a succession of dramatic turns and coincidences, all accompanied by the keening strings of Mychael Danna's intriguingly dissonant but much-overplayed score (a problem carried over from "Where the Truth Lies").
As ever, it's hard not to respect the sheer number of ideas, concerns and subtexts Egoyan touches on, from the difficulty of cross-cultural communication to the human tendency to construct alternate realities and identities. While the script steers clear of the minefield of Mideast politics, it foregrounds the three major Western religions throughout, not least in the way it conflates pregnant Rachel's trip to Israel with the story of Jesus' birth.
But the common charge against Egoyan, that he's more intellectual than dramatist, holds true here, in a film too contrived and prone to spelling itself out to achieve the catharsis it strains for at the end. Khanjian, the helmer's wife and ensemble regular, is given one blunt speech after another as the talkative prof who's either a bold provocateur or a few sheep short of a nativity scene.
Bostick is nicely cast as a smart, prickly student with a lot of questions, though his Simon, for all his reckless actions, turns out to be a mere pawn in a grandiose narrative scheme. Speedman and Blanchard, both known for their work on teen skeins, deliver subtle, affecting work, as does Jenkins as a much-misunderstood dad.
Tech package is excellent, distinguished by Paul Sarossy's moodily underlit lensing and editor Susan Shipton's fluid juggling act
