by Michael Dequina
November 25, 2002
Same Planet, Different Worlds
In a not-so-coincidental development, both screen versions of Stanislaw Lem's meditative science fiction novel SOLARIS hit Los Angeles theatres at almost exactly the same time--and, for viewers living elsewhere, The Criterion Collection's new two-DVD edition of the original Russian version hits store shelves the day before the new film's opening on November 27--offering an intriguing glimpse of how the same source material can yield undeniably similar yet distinct cinematic takes.
Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 version is, for many audiences, an endurance test, and such a reputation isn't undeserved. Its 167-minute running time is padded out by many wordless scenes, such as a(n) (in)famous five-or-so-minute scene of cars traveling on the highway; and it can be argued that not much actually happens--or at least not enough to justify the length. After about forty minutes of earthbound exposition, in which psychologist Dr. Kris Kelvin's (Donatas Banionis) quiet existence at a country home with his child and parents is interrupted when he is sent to investigate the strange goings-on at a space station orbiting the distant planet of Solaris. What he discovers defies explanation: not only has the once-massive crew now down to only two men, but soon joining him is his wife Khari (Natalya Bondarchuk)--who had died on Earth years prior.
But the reappearance of Khari and her relationship with Kelvin is but one of many concerns for Tarkovsky and co-writer Fridrikh Gorenshtein, who mix that thread, technospeak about the sentience of the Solaris ocean, and many long, visually stunning shots of the impressive set design into a mélange that is at best cryptic, at worst impenetrable. I won't pretend to understand what it all means or even have coherent interpretations, but it's no puzzle as to why the film is held in such high esteem. It's a haunting work of undeniable imagination and deep thought, with its surface exploration of the universe being a mask for a more probing philosophical one of man.
Steven Soderbergh's 2002 SOLARIS is most certain to leave many an audience disappointed, particularly those encountering this material for the first time. The marketing paints his take as strictly a romantic drama, rather neatly skirting the issue that said love story takes place... in outer space. Similarly, those drawn by the sci-fi element may be thrown by Soderbergh's larger attention to more decidedly down-to-earth issues. But familiarity can also breed similar contempt, as cinéastes in love with Tarkovsky's 1972 Russian screen version, will undoubtedly find many issues of complaint in the new picture.
My word of advice to any audience is to let go and let this SOLARIS wash over you. While a number of the major beats remain the same, it's an entirely different animal from Tarkovsky's hypnotic but opaque take, and it's an entirely different animal from most Hollywood remakes or American studio product in general. Just as deliberately--and, certainly for many, maddeningly--vague and more concerned with overall feelings, broader ideas, and open-ended questions than concrete story and definitive answers as Tarkovsky's take, Soderbergh's SOLARIS is also a gorgeous and deceptively minimalist cinematic tone poem, but with a less cerebral and more sentimental bent.
One of the things that this SOLARIS doesn't share with its predecessor is a mammoth running time. This version lasts only about 96 minutes, a reflection of how Soderbergh (who also penned the new script) distills the story down to its romantic core. Gone are issues of parents, political humiliation, brain waves, and those cars traveling on the highway; front and center is the relationship between Dr. Chris Kelvin (George Clooney) and his late wife, here named Rheya (Natascha McElhone). When psychiatrist Kelvin arrives at that space station orbiting the distant planet of Solaris, he confronts Rheya in both a figurative and literal sense. In addition to the physical manifestations of Rheya that visit him, Kelvin also faces all of his love, guilt, and various conflicting feelings by way of intercut memories of their turbulent relationship.
And that, more or less, is the sum of the stripped-down plot in this SOLARIS. Those expecting concrete explanations about the how and why certain things happen won't get them, for the hows and whys are secondary to the emotions being conveyed--and it's a credit to the work of Soderbergh and Clooney that so much is said with literally so little. The spare dialogue--which matches Philip Messina's sleek, sterile space-age sets and the ominous tones of Cliff Martinez's score--doesn't speak as much as the many silences, or rather the emotion that can be felt bubbling beneath the nonverbal surface. Clooney is particularly startling, dialing down his natural magnetism to convincingly, compellingly play a man broken and numb with grief and anguish, and in so doing bringing to the fore the real talent so often overshadowed by his overpowering natural charisma. The baggage of his prototypical screen persona actually adds that much more to the performance and the character, as it deepens the sense of how far gone Kelvin is emotionally, spiritually, completely.
McElhone has an even more difficult task: she has to make various incarnations of Rheya distinct yet somehow consistent. A likable, sensual, glowing presence, McElhone pulls off the job without a false note, making it easy to understand why Kelvin cannot escape Rheya. On the other hand, Jeremy Davies is a bit too fond of spastic Tarantino-esque mannerisms as an eccentric station scientist, but his unusual energy is good for some flashes of humor, and his general strangeness adds a discomfiting tension. Certain to be underrated is Viola Davis, who exudes quiet authority as the only other crew member aboard the station, a hard-thinking woman of science who serves as the voice of reason.
On initial glances, the new SOLARIS can also strike one as being as chilly and distant as those outer reaches of the universe, but like the planet of the title, the real story is churning deep beneath its surface: those deep, untamed passions that simultaneously excite and frighten--and refuse to be denied. It's easy to deny the film's subtextual splendors, but it's easier to simply surrender and, as one character puts it, "live in this feeling."
Licensed to Thrill
The scorecard for the 20th "official" James Bond adventure, DIE ANOTHER DAY:
Last Time We Left 007...: Bond (Pierce Brosnan) was in bed with improbable nuclear physicist Christmas Jones (the awful Denise Richards) and uttered a particularly ribald one-liner, which, along with a killer opening and a deliciously villainous turn by Sophie Marceau, was one of the very few memorable aspects of 1999's otherwise messy and disappointing THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH.
The Gunbarrel: Exactly as one has come to expect after 40 years, but with the added touch of a CGI bullet shooting straight to the camera--the first of director Lee Tamahori's tweaks to the traditional 007 formula.
The Opening Sequence: An exciting hovercraft chase over a minefield in North Korea leads directly into the film's main plot, continuing the precedent set by WORLD and setting the decidedly darker, grittier tone for this adventure.
The Main Titles: As in the last three films, we get Daniel Kleinman's CGI-enhanced dancing girls in the old Maurice Binder tradition, but with a twist: for the first time, a title sequence actually serves the story, with said girls rather cleverly emerging from the still-progressing action. In screen context, Madonna's techno-dance title tune strikes as even more un-Bond than it already is on its own, directly clashing with the happenings on screen. (Note to the producers: give reliable score composer David Arnold another crack at composing the opening theme.)
Bond: In his fourth outing, Brosnan has now completely made the character his own--which isn't to say he'll erase memories of Sean Connery, but his take feels just as right and iconic. He's a bit more energized this time out, no doubt due to the meaner, meatier shadings he gets to work with; he again has to stop the usual larger-than-life baddies, but he has to do so as a renegade after some rather dramatic turns of events in the first act.
The Villains: Megalomaniacal (of course) Richard Branson-esque zillionaire/thrillseeker Gustav Graves (Toby Stephens) may not be as balls-out nutty as some of his predecessors, but writers Neal Purvis and Robert Wade give him a more fully realized character arc than one would expect. His right-hand man Zao (Rick Yune) is a formidable physical challenge for Bond, not to mention a striking visual: thanks to an explosion and an interrupted cosmetic surgery procedure (both caused by Bond, of course), he is hairless and has diamonds embedded in his face.
The Women: CIA operative Jinx (Halle Berry) makes a striking, bikini-clad entrance from the ocean à la Ursula Andress' Honey Rider in DR. NO (one of this 40th-anniversary film's clever nods to past Bond films), and while she then disappears from the film for long stretches, Berry and the character ultimately live up to the stunning introduction. A fun, foxy foil, Jinx is in many ways the distaff Bond: same sense of style, same cavalier attitude toward sex, same propensity for the suggestive one-liner--although slightly more vicious in the fight. Berry obviously has a ball, and the proposed spin-off series for the character has some promise. Newcomer Rosamund Pike holds her own with the more seasoned cast members as the aptly named woman of mystery/fencing expert Miranda Frost. (Purvis and Wade deserve tons of extra kudos for making Miranda a shady publicist--which, if you ask me, is a stroke of genius.) However, Madonna's extended cameo as bondage gear-wearing fencing instructor Verity is very much in line with her sore-thumb theme song--the less said, the better.
The Supporting Cast: Judi Dench's M retreats to the background after an expanded post-Oscar role in WORLD, but she reliably exudes her trademark regal authority. As the new Q, John Cleese is hilarious, further developing the antagonistic relationship he established with Bond when he was his predecessor's assistant in WORLD. Samantha Bond's Moneypenny has a little more to do this time out and gets one of the film's best jokes in the process. Time will tell, though, if series newcomer Michael Madsen, playing nondescript CIA head Falco, will have his character develop into someone more interesting in future films.
The Action: The three-year layoff between films seems to have done wonders for the crew's creativity. The set pieces are far more spectacular and creative than we've seen in the Brosnan era or perhaps even the entire franchise itself; the jaw-dropping car chase on ice is a cinch to go down as one of Bond's best-ever moments, and even more grounded sequences such as a swordfight between Bond and Graves are also rather exciting. Most impressive, however, is how all of the action appears to grow organically out of the plot--even the more preposterous bits, like one extended surfing scene. The CGI effects aren't always convincing (especially in that surfing scene), but in the over-the-top world that is 007's, the odd cheesy visual feels somehow right.
Overall: Brosnan's best mission as Bond yet, and the most satisfying installment of the franchise in recent memory.
Don't Thank God, It's FRIDAY AFTER NEXT
With FRIDAY AFTER NEXT, it's become abundantly clear that series star/writer/producer Ice Cube hasn't a clue as to why the first FRIDAY became such a beloved cult classic in the first place. No, I'm not speaking of long-departed original co-star Chris Tucker (at least not exclusively) but of a certain sense of heart, a genuine affection for its setting and characters. Alas, this installment finishes the job started in the last film, NEXT FRIDAY, by compensating for Tucker's continued absence with ever-increasing crassness--in so doing removing any trace of warmth or recognizable humanity. Every person long-suffering straight-arrow Craig (Cube) and ne'er-do-well cousin/now-roommate Day-Day (Mike Epps, returning from the last film) run into on one long Christmas Eve Friday is either cartoonish, buffoonish, or both--designations that at times apply to the focal pair themselves. The pursuit of a Santa-suited burglar in the South Central 'hood is the thin thread on which Cube and director Marcus Raboy many stereotyped and unfunny running jokes, such as hygenically-challenged Middle Eastern donut shop owners and an ex-con out to make the owner of a "pimps 'n hos" clothing store into his bitch. To be fair, there is some wit and creativity on display in FRIDAY AFTER NEXT--in the amusing animated opening title sequence.
Unfit for an EMPEROR
Prep school professor (Kevin Kline) tries to mold his students into upstanding young men, in particular one problem student (Emile Hirsch). Ho-hum. To THE EMPEROR'S CLUB's credit, though, director Michael Hoffman and screenwriter Neal Tolkin (working from Ethan Canin's short story "The Palace Thief") aren't necessarily interested in painting an entirely sunny feel-good picture, and it does have the appealing, grounding presence of Kline in the role of the self-righteous teacher. That, right there, points up the key problem of the film: Kline's character himself is guilty of some questionable actions, but the film so clearly takes his side on every turn that the moral would-be dilemmas that arise are hardly thought-provoking.
Close to HEAVEN
It's been well over a month since I've seen the film, yet I still don't feel like I've found the words to accurately capture my feelings about FAR FROM HEAVEN. Todd Haynes' homage to Douglas Sirk's female-oriented melodramas of the 1950s is one of those films that hits just about every of its intended notes right that descriptions seem moot. As a tribute to the Sirk aesthetic, HEAVEN looks and feels like the genuine article, from the sumptuous Technicolor-esque hues, polished production design and costuming, Elmer Bernstein's glorious score and Haynes' mostly pitch-perfect mock '50s dialogue.
That last quality will certain clang to the ears of a number of contemporary moviegoers, and that more obvious touch of anachronistic artifice may make it all the more difficult to settle into this film's world of Eisenhower-era Connecticut suburbia. But as in Sirk's work, there's a lot more going on underneath the placid surfaces--as housewife Cathy Whitaker (Julianne Moore) discovers, namely in her marriage to husband Frank (Dennis Quaid). The crisis that develops in their marriage leaves Cathy to increasingly turn to her African-American gardener Raymond (Dennis Haysbert) for support, and their growing friendship proves to be far too progressive for the rest of society.
Perhaps a rudimentary familiarity with the genre Haynes is emulating will enhance one's appreciation of FAR FROM HEAVEN, but it's far from necessary. As closely and beautifully as Haynes has recreated Sirk, what makes the film so special are his original touches: the forthrightness with which he addresses what would've been fairly taboo subjects in the '50s; and, above all, his lead trio of actors, who do outstanding jobs of turning archetypal characters into believable people. As such, in the place of Sirk's sweeping dramatic strokes are more subtle and hence more realistic and affecting emotions--ones that viewers won't feel the slightest tinge of guilt weeping over.
Character Assassination
With its mock documentary conceit and sensationalistic premise, INTERVIEW WITH THE ASSASSIN sounds like a piece of no-budget exploitation in the BLAIR WITCH PROJECT vein. (Or, should I say, THE LAST BROADCAST vein, as this film more closely resembles that infamous BWP forerunner.) But the film, fashioned as an unemployed news photographer's on-camera talk with a neighbor who claims to be the man who was John F. Kennedy's second assassin, rises above its modest production values and fairly simple idea by way of veteran character actor Raymond J. Barry's riveting performance as the self-professed gunman. Barry is creepy but, above all else, credible, and he sometimes makes it easy to forget that this isn't a work of non-fiction. Writer-director Neil Burger also gets a convincing performance out of Dylan Haggerty as the cameraman, and he throws in some clever twists en route to the finale.
At the Video Store
Christian Bale and a bald, buffed Matthew McConaughey doing battle with ferocious dragons in futuristic, post-apocalyptic England does not equate to many thrills in REIGN OF FIRE (Touchstone Home Entertainment), Rob Bowman's not-so-special FX extravaganza. The DVD includes commentary by Bowman and various making-of features.
A more familiar-looking McConaughey can also be found on the new releases shelf this week in 13 CONVERSATIONS ABOUT ONE THING (Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment), Jill Sprecher's ensemble drama following five separate storylines in New York. Alan Arkin, Amy Irving, John Turturro and Clea DuVall also star. The DVD includes commentary by Sprecher and her sister/writing collabator, Karen.
More multi-character, multi-storyline melodrama can be found in SUNSHINE STATE (Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment), John Sayles' affecting portrait of the people and evolving communities on a Florida resort island. Angela Bassett, Edie Falco, Timothy Hutton, Mary Alice and Mary Steenburgen head the cast.
Matt Damon as the internal voice of a young horse coming of age to the strains of Bryan Adams tunes. Is it any wonder that the animated feature SPIRIT: STALLION OF THE CIMARRON (DreamWorks Home Entertainment) was one of the summer's box office underachievers?
Dimension Home Video's release of Ching Siu Tung and Johnnie To's 1992 Hong Kong action/superhero classic THE HEROIC TRIO is a mixed blessing. While this can only mean a wider audience for this wild, fast-paced fantasy in which three costumed crusaders (Michelle Yeoh, Maggie Cheung, and Anita Mui) team up to fight a demon who's kidnapping the city's babies, Dimension's version only comes in a dubbed, edited format. Luckily Tai Seng Video's uncut, subtitled VHS and DVD are both still available--if you know where to look.
If you were one of the few (okay, make that "many") who missed JUWANNA MANN (Warner Home Video) in theatres, you can now enjoy (okay, make that "watch") this suspended-NBA-star-turns-to-drag-to-play-in-the-WNBA hoops comedy in the comfort (okay, make that "privacy") of your own home.
To coincide with the theatrical release of DIE ANOTHER DAY, MGM is releasing yet more 007 DVD box collections under the title THE JAMES BOND COLLECTION, but currently only one set is being made available, containing seven films and spanning four of the five Bond portrayers: Sean Connery in 1962's DR. NO and 1964's GOLDFINGER; Roger Moore in 1974's THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN and 1977's THE SPY WHO LOVED ME; Timothy Dalton in 1989's LICENCE TO KILL; and Pierce Brosnan in 1995's GOLDENEYE and 1997's TOMORROW NEVER DIES. I know; I'm thinking the same thing--THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN?!
Looking Ahead...
Coming right up, the AFI Fest 2002 wrap-up. Next week, TREASURE PLANET, ADAM SANDLER'S EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS, THEY and more. As usual, check out my "home" site, Mr. Brown's Movie Site, for my longer takes on current and older releases.
E-MAIL THE AUTHOR |
ARCHIVES
