Whereas earlier films construe the heist as a sustained act of craftsmanship, The Killing presents it as a sustained act of co-ordination, fully collapsing aesthetics and logistics. Not only does an omniscient narrator provide a minute-by-minute account of the events leading up to the raid on a racetrack, but the point at which the various strands coalesce is continually postponed, in order to return to the trajectories of each participant. This indefinite postponement largely precludes the need for the conventional, centripetal third act, as well as imbuing the heist with an aura of unknowability that gestures towards the sublimity of Kubrick's later works: "You know of the Siberian goat herder who tried to discover the true nature of the sun? He stared up at the heavenly body until it made him blind. There are many things of this sort, including love, death and my business today." That said, this sublimity is largely deflected into the contrast between inky, engulfing blackness, and pinpoints of almost unbearably bright light - an aesthetic that is all the more noticeable for encompassing spaces that are not typically associated with noir. This structural ingenuity is nuanced by Jim Thompson's brilliant script, which succeeds in suggesting that "none of these men are criminals in the usual sense", as well as a series of idiosyncratic camera movements, including a short, repeated pan that gradually lengthens into tracking-shots, and conflates the tandem movements of participants and racehorses.