Honey, Can We Talk?

Movie Review:
Solaris

PG-13 / 1 hr., 39 min. / 2002

There are two kinds of science fiction on the market. There is the Sci-Fi of Technology, where computers develop brains and take over, or spaceships take us deep into unexplored galaxies, or time travel takes us into unfathomable past or future worlds. And there is the Sci-Fi of Idea, where man delves into the philosophical implications of a newly developed technology or a strange new life force.

Most sci-fi movies will include both of these forms in their structure, to varying degrees. The classic sci-fi tales used the Technology aspect as a way of exploring the Idea aspect, such as the way H.G. Wells used time travel to parabolically examine modern society and its trends in The Time Machine; or Jules Verne’s postulations on the possibilities to be gleaned from the ocean floor in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

As our culture becomes more immune to the desire to actually think, we have shifted over to sci-fi that is concerned almost exclusively with the Technology and couldn’t care less about the Idea. The Star Wars franchise, while entertaining, is little more than standard mythology retold using Jedi knights, hyperdrives, light sabers, and Wookies. Fun, but check your brains at the door.

This new mentality so exemplifies the meaning of science fiction to most people that it is no wonder they were sorely disappointed by Solaris. There are no explosions. There are no robots. There are no drooling, multi-tentacled, carnivorous aliens. The technology of the one space ship involved is barely even given a passing glance. This is a film that is entirely concerned with the Idea.

There is a spacecraft circling the gaseous planet Solaris, and apparently something unusual is taking place on board. Such is the vague gist of the message that crew member Gibarian (Ulrich Tukur) sends down to his friend Chris Kelvin (George Clooney), a psychological counselor on earth. Gibarian’s message asks Kelvin to join him on the spacecraft, and in an effort to escape some painful memories, Kelvin accepts.

Arriving on board the ship, Kelvin is immediately struck by two things: The ship’s apparent vacancy, and splotches of blood on the walkways. After some searching, Kelvin finds two crew members: Snow (Jeremy Davies) and Gordon (Viola Davis). Both seem rather disturbed over undefined strange occurrences, not the least of which appears to be Gibarian’s suicide which took place sometime after he sent his message to Kelvin.

Now here’s my problem: On the one hand, if I describe any more of the plot, I will deprive you of the thrill of letting it unfold for itself as you watch. On the other hand, this tack will make it very difficult to discuss the film at all. On the third hand, I’m not sure “thrill” is the right word for describing the film anyway, so further plot revelations may not have anything to ruin. But I’ll play it safe and discuss only what I can.

Solaris is based on the book by Stanislaw Lem, and this is its second incarnation as a film. This adaptation is written and directed by Steven Soderbergh, whose previous works involved a great deal of action and high-stakes tension, so the extraordinarily calm delivery here is something of a surprise. But in general terms, Soderbergh handles it well, guiding us slowly into the depths of the story with long scenes that are visually static but emotionally dynamic.

But it is this snail’s pace that will kill the film for most people. I will not be so phony as to say the pace didn’t bother me at all, but I had heard going in that this was not a whiz-bang action piece, so I was braced for it. Even then, I occasionally lapsed into mental ruminations on other things I could be doing; but as a dedicated film student I got all the way to the end credits.

Why so slow? Because, once again, this is a film about the Idea. And the nature of the Sci-Fi of the Idea is that people sit around exploring the Idea. Aside from flashbacks to earlier scenes in Kelvin’s life, much of the film is Kelvin and a woman named Rheya (Natascha McElhone) dealing with the implications of an Idea that the ship’s crew discovers while circling Solaris. The single longest shot in the movie is of Kelvin and Rheya lying in bed simply talking. (This is also the George Clooney butt-shot scene everyone warned me about, but my thirteen-inch TV screen rendered it only mildly painful to the eyes.)

Within that slowness, the cast delivers a satisfactory performance. George Clooney (Ocean’s Eleven), Natascha McElhone (The Truman Show), Viola Davis (Antwone Fisher), and Jeremy Davies (Saving Private Ryan) all demonstrate ample skill in delivering on an emotionally charged subject – although Davies, as a stoner techie, grows very annoying very quickly. Maybe it’s a tribute to his talent, but I was ready to slap him and tell him just to shut up.

In general, everything successfully contributes to the unity of the production, a feat too many sloppier efforts fail to achieve. In Solaris, the exploration of the Idea is the important thing, so the production design by Philip Messina, costumes by Melina Canonero, and music score by Cliff Martinez are kept appropriately unobtrusive. The score is almost atmospheric, filling the silence with minimalism but never presenting a melody to distract us from the proceedings. The director even fills out the crew with a minimalist mentality: The editing and cinematography are handled by Soderbergh himself under various pseudonyms.

Despite its professionalism, I was somewhat disappointed with the film for a handful of reasons, the first of which is the promotional paragraph on the DVD box. I am growing increasingly tired of inaccurate material designed to lure me into renting something, because inevitably I end up frustrated by the disconnect between what the material leads me to expect and what I actually get.

For Solaris, I was promised a ship filled with bizarre occurrences, something akin to Sphere, perhaps, only a little more thought-provoking. Anyone planning to view this film should ignore that promise, because whoever wrote the DVD sleeve material is lying. What we get is one bizarre occurrence; it is played out several times and in slightly different forms, but it is foundationally the same event repeated. This is not in itself a problem, but it is not what I was led to expect.

A similar comment could be made regarding the film’s first act. The blood splattered around the ship when Kelvin arrives inadvertently promises us something much more dangerous and tense than what we actually get.

Second, the pace could have been tightened a bit without jeopardizing the film’s theme or style. Some shots feel interminable, some of the actors’ meaningful pauses feel too long. I am not advocating wholesale surrender to the fast, choppy editing that is a poor substitute for true cinematic energy; but a general rule is to show what you need to show for as long as you need to show it, then move on. Soderbergh ignores this too often in Solaris.

And third, even a story about an Idea needs some forward momentum. It does not need to involve lasers and haywire robots and Sigourney Weaver blowing up screeching, snarling, deadly life forms. But there should be something requiring the characters to advance the story. Solaris contains no such thing except Kelvin’s increasingly conflicted feelings about the Idea. This can be very successful in a novel, and I imagine the book’s exploration of Kelvin’s thoughts makes for an interesting study. But ultimately, those thought processes do not translate into a consistently enthralling cinematic experience.

But surprisingly, for a film that feels so slow, I feel that the Idea we are presented with is not discussed enough. The film’s 99-minute running time makes any truly deep exploration of the Idea impossible. We are left with a Cliff Notes view of a philosophical dilemma.

The story has a few potential elements of momentum already present in its structure, but fails to make use of them. One such element presents itself within the last ten minutes of the film, but could have added just a dash of tension and urgency if it had been mentioned somewhere around the halfway point instead.

Despite half my review being criticisms, I’m giving the film an above-average rating. It is a good film, and I am, ultimately, glad that my friend Jason recommended it. I think its biggest problem is simply that it had the misfortune of being presented to a public that has long since distanced itself from thought-provoking cinema.

My Score: 8