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"I did not come to America to live like an Arab."

House of Sand and Fog is not a film about racism, though racism is part of the story. Nor is it about a real estate deal gone wrong, nor about the immigrant experience. Its characters are attacked by forces they do not understand, defeated by choices they did not know they were making. There is no easy explanation for their fates; you can't ascribe it to racism, bureaucracy, or even something so general and generic as "the system." Kathy Nicolo does, after all, neglect to open her mail.

Had Kathy (Jennifer Connolly), recently abandoned by her husband, avoiding her mother, and despairing alone inside the house she inherited from her dad, bothered to open the many envelopes waiting on her doorstep, she would have discovered that the government is of the mistaken belief that she has neglected to pay $500 worth of business taxes. She thought she had taken care of this mix-up months earlier, and though the letters kept coming, she had long stopped reading. Then she is awoken by a stern knock on the door, a man in a suit, a deputy sherriff, and two big guys with a van. The man in the suit posts eviction notices on the front and back doors, and when Kathy protests, he tells her to take it up with the lawyers.

I've never been able to connect with Jennifer Connelly's characters -- she is very good at playing mopey and morose, and in the process she puts up a steely, impenetrable facade. That does work here, to a certain extent, as her character mostly exists in a state of outrage or quiet desperation. What ever reticence one may have toward Connelly should be offset by the presence of Ben Kingsley, playing her opposite, her nemesis, and, eventually, her counterpart.

Colonel Bahrani (Kingsley) comes to America with his wife and teenage son, effectively exiled from Iran for reasons that are unclear. He works two jobs, as a construction worker and convenience store clerk, and is regularly insulted by the clerk of the hotel where he leaves his car. One day, he sees a house up for auction by the government, and sees an opportunity for his family. He buys the house for a fraction of what it's worth, intending to add a "Widow's Walk," sell the house in a buyer's market, and buy an even better one.

Kathy, meanwhile, grows increasingly desperate, asking a lawyer to intervene, coming to the house to plead, and eventually sending her boyfriend -- the very deputy who evicted her, played by Ron Eldard -- to intimidate the Colonel. Bahrani becomes angry and frustrated, his wife bewildered and frightened, his son confused. Nothing good can come of this.

House of Sand and Fog doesn't, as some people have interpreted, claim that racism is built into American institutions. Rather, it asserts that our institutions sometimes force us into conflicts, and that those conflicts take on racial overtones -- not because of any overarching injustice but because human beings always manage to find easy scapegoats for their plight. I doubt, for example, that the policeman here is truly a bigot and yet, caught up in a love affair and seeing only one side of the story, he instinctively lashes out at who he thinks is stereotypically an Arab engaging in profiteering. One gets the feeling that he would find invectives to hurl at whomever was in Bahrani's position, no matter the race.

Everyone who makes it through the film will be talking about Ben Kingsley, who does positively earth-shattering work. His role seems a showy one, and indeed he has plenty of opportunities to work himself into a (fully convincing) frenzy, but it is also a part of remarkable subtlety -- watch the way Bahrani's command of English slips in times of stress and peril. There is a splendid supporting performance by Shohreh Aghdashloo as Bahrani's wife, who exists in a state of perpetual fear and confusion, waiting for invisible forces of American government and culture to come take her and her son away.

Much of the movie's emotional impact is found in the details of the culture clash behind the story -- the fact that Bahrani puts on a suit when visiting Kathy's lawyer, his passive response to the rudeness of the hotel clerk. ("My car is parked here. You asked yesterday also.") Kathy, not surprisingly, retreats into the background, spending most of the last act being the catalyst for events rather than a participant in them. But there are intriguing tidbits to be found there as well, partly in the surprisingly tender interaction between her and Mrs. Bahrani.

Vadim Perelman's meticulous direction creates a moody reverie of a movie, so rhythmic and dreamlike that the plot's violent conclusion is even more startling. His work is complemented by James Horner's surpisingly evocative score, which temporarily abated my intense dislike of the ubiquitous composer. The debut filmmaker is slated to adapt Stephen King's fantasy near-masterpiece The Talisman for his next trick, and based on this I would say he is the perfect choice for that similarly dreamlike novel. House of Sand and Fog is thoughtful, disturbing storytelling.