As the years (is it really almost 7 now?) after September 11th have stumbled by in something of a fog, and the militancy, hatred and violence of our world have shown no signs of abating, I have often been struck by a curious notion. It seems that – among Americans and Westerners in general – the farther away one was from the events of that day, the more strident the calls for some form of violent retribution, no matter how tenuous the links between the acts pursued in the name of “revenge” and the real causes of trauma on that day. Among those of us I know – I’m including myself and my friends – who were actually present in New York on that day, there was a lot of hurt, a lot of anger and a lot of emotional devastation; but, interestingly, almost everyone I know who saw those events in person has retained a sense that complexity, dialogue and increased information are the most fundamental weapons in the war on terror. Not MOABs and Daisy Cutters.

I mention this because Mariane Pearl – wife of Daniel – clearly suffered the most personal, direct effects of extreme terrorism (“Why did you kidnap him?” “Because he’s American.”), and yet the lesson she seems to have taken away from her tragedy is an extremely nuanced, complex one, predicated on dialogue, and shot through with a crystalline moral clarity. This is impressive, and hard to imagine oneself emulating in her position.

Part of that need for more information is her insistence on telling this story – the heart-wrenching story of her husband’s kidnapping and beheading at the hands of extremists. The lens through which it is told is a reflected one, focusing on her isolation and insecurity and terror, and the murder – primarily – of a great human relationship between two loving, open-minded individuals. The breaking of the glass at the Jewish wedding ceremony – symbolizing the breaking of innocence – is by and large the axis around which this story revolves, as Mariane is forced to confront everything to which her and Daniel’s lives, work and beliefs are opposed. It is the story of that choice, and subsequently, of the peculiar, secular faith that allows her to make it.

So the actual watching of this movie is rough going. If you watched or read the news in late 2001 (and who didn’t?), then you most likely already know the conclusion here. Still, there is an impressive amount of tension in the way that it unfolds. The various interests at play – between the Pakistani police, military, the diplomatic and the press corps – all intersect, both delaying as well as accelerating the search for the missing man at the center of the story. This delicate balance is rendered thoughtfully, through judicious editing and a predominant narrative focus on the Pearl’s Karachi living room, the nerve center of the search for Daniel. And frankly, despite her promising early work in Cyborg 2, who knew Angelina Jolie could really act? This is a career-making performance, in which she moves beyond smoldering eyes, looking like she just got punched in the mouth, and a fantastic pair of, well, shoes, and throws every inch of her carefully calibrated facial expressions into a subtle, mesmerizing performance.

The only real complaint I had was that little of the story was told from Daniel’s point of view, during his time in captivity. They make the visual leap of imagining what his moment of capture was like, so why stop there? They do include haunting bits and pieces of what his time must have been like, but strictly through voice-over narration. And this is a perfect example of voice-over narration as a sloppy artistic choice. To capture the brutality, isolation and hatred that lies at the heart of what confronts Mariane and Daniel Pearl, there would have been no harm in daring to cross this imaginative line. Or if not, they should certainly have left out the narration at the beginning and end of the film. The story told itself with perfect eloquence, and there was no need to summarize the setting of the scene or its terrible, terrible conclusion.

That said, one judges the story one is told, not the story one wishes to be told. And in that sense, this is an important one, told with nuance and extreme emotional heft.