We bring a lot of baggage with us into movies: preconceptions about certain actors, ideas about the kinds of events depicted. In the case of The Kingdom, we’ve got certain expectations regarding, say, Jennifer Garner’s tough-gal persona, thanks to her stint on Alias, and certain expectations regarding what should be done about Middle Eastern terrorists who kill Americans, and certain expectations about how big, loud, Hollywood action movies will deal with throwing these things together.

And sure enough, there comes a moment late in The Kingdom when Garner, playing an FBI forensics expert investigating a devastating bombing against U.S. interests in Saudi Arabia, has a confrontation with a bad brown guy that ends rather badly for him. And the crowd with whom I saw this film — which consisted of a small clutch of critics surrounded by regular, nonprofessional moviegoers who’d been treated to a free sneak preview of the movie — whooped and hollered their delight. “That’s an Oscar right there!” one woman yelled, meaning, I suppose, that one bad-ass American chick beating the crap out of a foreign villain must surely be a pinnacle of cinematic achievement for the year.

I sighed, and thought: This is why we’re doomed. People really and truly get off on this stuff.

It’s one thing to feel a certain sense of catharsis from seeing a movie bad guy get what’s coming to him, but it’s something else entirely to be cheering out loud in a movie theater for an act of desperate, kill-or-be-killed, matter-of-immediate-life-or-death violence that is not presented in any way to titillate or thrill. The camera doesn’t linger; it doesn’t drool. The scene is riveting because of the necessity and expediency of the act.

But I think — I hope — that director Peter Berg, working from a script by first-timer Matthew Michael Carnahan, had this all in mind from the beginning, knew how audiences would react to his hot-button story, and was setting them up for a little bit of a smackdown. Because there’s a little metaphoric twist of the knife right at the end of the film that suggests we might want to reconsider whatever visceral pleasure we might have taken in seeing an enemy suffer, the resolution of a little mystery that’s been running through the story since its beginning, and it’s nothing you can guess, but it floored me with its simple wisdom and sly cunning: it’s a bit of shaming about cycles of hate and violence that we must be fully cognizant of if we’re ever to break them.

And that most certainly is directed at the audience because the characters we’ve come to care about and root for are never even aware of it: they are complicit in those attitudes. And we like these characters instantly because we share their rage: this FBI team — Garner’s forensics examiner, the intelligence analyst played by Jason Bateman, Chris Cooper’s explosives expert, and the team leader played by Jamie Foxx — loses one of their own in their horrific multiple shootings and bombings at the Riyadh housing complex of an American oil company. And then the U.S. government plays politics with the situation, refuses to allow the FBI to travel to Saudi Arabia to investigate. So the team sneaks off to the Middle East, where they encounter more politicking from local princes and from their own ambassador (Jeremy Piven, in fine weaselly form). It’s a law-enforcement clusterfuck, with the agents thwarted at every turn. And it’s entirely frustrating — the desire to kick some ass just to get things moving seems like an understandable response.

“It’s a bit like Mars,” Cooper’s character says about the otherworldly feel, at least to most Americans, of Saudi Arabia. Berg capitalizes on our unfamiliarly with life in the Arab state, dropping in strange little visual crumbs of men stopped on the side of the road to pray beside their cars, of hidden computer cafes with PCs piled like cordwood against a wall, of the concealment of women. It’s a bit like the Old West, too, except everyone’s got armored SUVs and shoulder-launched missiles. The gulf between cultures might seem almost unbridgeable, if not for the plain fact that it is not when even a smidgen of effort is expended. And so we have the FBI team’s liaison, Saudi Colonel Al Ghazi (Ashraf Barhom, who just about steals the movie), with whom they create a tentative relationship based, at first, on the wish to bring murderers to justice, and later on a much greater sense of shared humanity.

The brilliance of The Kingdom is there. In the midst of an urgent, hard-edged story of criminal investigation — think CSI: Riyadh — and even after an intense final act jammed with enough action for three movies, that’s what we’re left with: We’re all human, and we’re all driven by the same things … including sometimes, purely atavistic tribalism. And it’s time to take a step back, take a deep breath, and recognize that.

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