Solaris:
A Disturbance in the Space-Time Continuum Solaris:
A Disturbance in the Space-Time ContinuumAfter watching Solaris, I was reminded of that great Dennis Farina scene in Snatch when he is about to pass through British customs and the officer asks him, "Do you have anything to declare?" Frustrated from everything that has happened to him throughout the movie, Farina sarcastically replies, "Yeah, don't go to England!" Similarly, as I walked out of my recent preview of Solaris, a studio rep asked me what I thought of the film and if I had a quote. Doing my best Farina, I tersely spat, "Yeah, don't go to 'Solaris.'"
Written and directed by Steven Soderbergh and produced by James Cameron, this film is a major misfire, a pretentious and deadly dull motion picture that is almost laughable in how ridiculously lost it is in its own lofty ambitions. A chore and a bore to sit through, the only thing that kept my interest during the entire screening was counting how many audience members actually got up, gathered their belongings, put on their coats, and walked out! I counted 15. FIFTEEN!
I can't believe the advance positive reviews this film is getting. Already based on a novel by Stanislaw Lem and a remake of an early 1970s foreign-language film just out on DVD, Solaris proceeds with a story that is really nothing more than a bloated, 99-minute version of a 30-minute Twilight Zone episode. The movie is essentially the artsy-fartsy version of Event Horizon or even Star Trek: Generations where a character goes to a space station orbiting a planet that is able to read his thoughts, toy with his mind, and resurrect for him a dead loved one out of some kind of interstellar Nexus energy emanating from the world below.
"Mr. Worf, re-route auxillary power through the main deflector dish and emit a low-level tachyon pulse to counteract the phenomenon. Make it so!"
Seriously, folks. Let's talk real turkey here. Solaris is a SCIENCE-FICTION FILM! Nothing wrong with that. I love sci-fie. But the commercials ain't telling you that. They're trying to hoodwink you. Look over Clooney's shoulder as he is talking about his lost love. What's that out the window? That's another planet. And not even an interesting planet, for all the mystery surrounding it, but one that looks like one of those electro-plasma globes that Spencer's sells at the local shopping mall. You know the kind where you put your finger up to it, and the electro-energy bolts immediately go to your tip.
Solaris wants to be this great tale of love lost reborn again. The ambition is there, but the execution is flawed. Yeah, film nerds who linger around in the theater lobby after the final credits have rolled will be able to toss around names like Fellini and Kubrick as inspirations for this malarkey, but don't get lost in the pretentiousness. We are told the central love story between George Clooney's interstellar shrink grieving the death of his wife (Natasha McElhone) who committed suicide. But we never FEEL it. At least I didn't. And the whole thing is shrouded in so much mystery anyway that it's close to impossible to make your way through the haze to the core of feelings Soderbergh so desperately wants to convey.
The main goal of the film is to make audience members ponder the question: "If given the chance to bring back a lost loved one, would you do it?" And then, if that person could be physically resurrected from your memory, would he/she be the Real McCoy or just an echo of how you saw them, not how they really and truly were. This is utter, raging, B.S. of course. No human being will ever be faced with this dilemma EVER. When you have a loved one die on you, they are going to stay dead. And there ain't no way, no how, no one is ever gonna bring them back. But the film plays out like this is a quandary humanity may have to face one day. Solaris is so self-serious and overstylized, that it never breathes.
Look, I have the utmost respect for Soderbergh and Clooney. I just think they got lost in their story here. There is no sense of urgency or even reinvention. Soderbergh lingers over the interiors of his space station like we've never seen such an installation before. He tells a story that has told so much better before on The Outer Limits or The Twilight Zone or even the original Star Trek. Really, all that is missing is Rod Serling at the beginning, inviting you to "Imagine if you will..."
It also doesn't help that Clooney and the rather creepy McElhone recite their lines like they are in some sort of hypnotic trance. Halfway through, I started wishing there was some secret magic word I could yell at the screen to snap them out of it. That's to say nothing of the music in this movie, which sounds like bad Tangerine Dream on Quaaludes.
So what's to keep us from drifting off? Why your standard, eccentric, bearded strange guy who has lost his mind, of course. Every abandoned space station has one. This time out it is Jeremy Davies, the cowardly translator from Saving Private Ryan who just rips off Brad Pitt's mannerisms from 12 Monkeys. It's a showy performance, but not much better than your average college drama major trying to work his way through a Jean-Paul Sartre play. Viola Davis is much more effective as Gordon, the station's third stranded scientist. She at least provides the story with some much-needed anger and drive. Gordon wants to take action, and we want her to also ... mainly because there is a good chance that if she is successful, the movie will end!
Solaris is rated PG-13 for adult themes, sexuality, brief nudity, and language. Yes, you get to see Clooney's bare backside. It's just an ass, people.
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