There are a handful of complaints one can level against Syriana. For starters, it's insanely ambitious: Wading deep into the muck of the worldwide oil industry—from the dark complexions manning the fields to the pasty and smug faces reaping the profits—the film occasionally risks collapsing under the weight of its own aspirations. It also resists easy nutshelling, with at least a dozen characters occupying no less than five overlapping story lines. As a result, plot lines and character motivations can be hard to keep track of, especially given the film's stew of languages.

But beyond these pitfalls is a film that raises a number of troubling questions—and then refuses to answer them. Does the Western world's dependence on oil fuel terrorism? Is corruption within the industry a necessary evil if it keeps the world humming? Syriana leans heavily toward the left in such matters, but in the end leaves it to your conscience to provide any real answers. It's to the film's credit that it rarely preaches; it also slaps your hand away when you look for a measure of comfort.

Comparisons between Syriana and Traffic are unavoidable. But where Steven Soderbergh's war-on-drugs screed was thoroughly undermined by its own simplicity (moral of the story: drugs be bad), Syriana—written and directed by Traffic screenwriter Stephen Gaghan, executive-produced by Soderbergh and star George Clooney—is not interested in easy exits. The usual suspects will no doubt squawk about anti-Bush bias and the so-called Blame America First syndrome, but anyone willing to look past the pundit noise will find a beautifully constructed and patient thriller.