by David Ng
Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic is a fictional movie but it feels real. Using such techniques as a shaky camera, grainy film stock, and title cards telling us where we are (from Washington D.C., to Tijuana, Mexico), it so fully embraces the unpolished aesthetic that it transcends its own ugliness and attains a kind of spare beauty. Its approach to the world of illegal drugs is as literal as live television. The camera, always moving, is an observer, not an interpreter.
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