Solaris

Having read the book before I saw this I though it was a huge disappointment. They completely missed the point of the story, which was philosophical rather than emotional. Basically, the movie took an awe-inspiring "what if" thought experiment - of finding a very advanced non-human intelligence (which, surprise surprise, doesn't have two arms, two legs, a body and a head) and the problems of trying to communicate with such a radically different being, especially when it doesn't seem interested in communication, and how we can relate to it with our own limited human experience, and squeezed out all the juicy intellectual bits. Solaris was supposed to be the real star of the story and the screenplay instead turned it into background wallpaper. All that was left then, was a sappy love story set in space. It is frustrating to think about the potential that was wasted. Mr. Soderbergh could have made a classic sci-fi film here, if only he'd made an honest attempt.

The funny thing is, if I hadn't read the book I would have liked the film, because it is well directed and has a nice atmospheric mood. There's nothing inherently wrong with love stories either. Just.. call it something other than Solaris, give the characters different names, don't do anything to remind me of the original story and I'd say it is a good movie. But as it is, it's an extreme disappointment.

While Soderbergh's Solaris may well be a work of art in its own right, I certainly pity those who haven't read the book or at least seen Tarkovsky's 1972 original adaptation, which is a lot more faithful to Lem's novel in its scope, if not in its vision. Soderbergh has managed to leave out just about everything that could justify the title (as Lem himself put it, if he had set out to write a book about space romance, he would have called it Love in Outer Space, not Solaris). So if you want to know the story, go and read the novel.

That said, I enjoyed Jeremy Davis as Snow, and the score is very good.

SOLARIS, directed by Steven Soderbergh, and starring George Clooney, is one of those pointless remakes Hollywood has been making these past decades that adds almost nothing to the original classic. The movie itself is good. Not great or even close to being bad or a misfire, just good. Soderbergh basically boiled down the complex and epic story, as seen in the Russian film, into a simple MINIMALISTIC love story. Which made me wonder why did they even bother remaking the movie if all the science-fiction and metaphysical elements were thrown out? The story could have easily taken place entirely on earth. And instead of Solaris, the story could have been set in a mystical setting, like a haunted castle or an ancient archeological find. If you're going to set in space, might as well give the outer space aspect some sort of meaning to it. The minimalistic approach is interesting but the result is pointless. Having Rheya come back from the dead, sort of speaking, and her problems adjusting to her new reality reminded me a lot of the replicants' plight in BLADE RUNNER, which is what I think Soderbergh tried to do here. Who's reality is it?

My only criticism about the movie is the use of dreams and flashbacks. In the film, the Solaris planet takes a person's main dream while they're sleeping (there's even silly close-up shots of Clooney's cranium). These dreams are seen as "flashback" in the movie. Dreams are rarely that linear. One doesn't dream about one specific thing or person (in this case Kelvin dreaming about Rheya) all the time. And dreams are impressions of reality. So when Rheya comes back, looking exactly like Kelvin's wife, for me this points out to an obvious weakness in the whole concept of the Solaris planet going into a person's mind and grabbing their version of reality. If this was the case, the reincarnated Rheya should have looked slightly different that the Rheya on earth. Oddly enough, the way Soderbergh approached the idea of a planet reincarnating a long lost loved one into flesh reminded me of the SPACE 1999 episode, A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH, more than the Tarkovsky movie. But I find that the SPACE 1999 episode, even with all its faults, was more epic and poignant than Soderbergh's version of the Stanislaw Lem's story. There's just something anal retentive about Soderbergh's direction which prevents any kind of emotions to seep to the surface.

Unlike most people though, I wasn't bored at all with SOLARIS. In fact, movies like ARMAGEDDON, THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK 2 or THE CORE were a thousand times more boring than this flick. It's just that the film's outcome is so predictable and that the script and filmmaker did nothing to alleviate this predictability that the pointlessness of the whole project comes to the fore. Good beginning. Predictable and flat ending.

And then there's another odd point about Soderbergh's SOLARIS: where did the money go? The film reportedly cost $80 to $100 million to make. The cast is tiny (four or five actors). There are very few special effects and the sets look like your standard spaceship sets you see on a TV show like STAR TREK VOYAGER. Why spend that huge amount of money on a simple, predictable love story? The film should have cost $30 to $40 million, not $100.

I love the Russian film a lot. But I can't say that Soderbergh create a disaster here or disservice to the Russian version or the book. It is a typically Soderbergh flick, which, on this aspect alone, sets it apart from the Russian movie. And like I've said, the film by itself is good. But in the end, it looks more like an episode of SPACE 1999 or THE TWILIGHT ZONE than a real movie.

There are a number of good things about this movie, but ultimately it felt to me like a lost opportunity. It raised provocative psychological issues but never carried me away or led me to anything like an epiphany. In the latter half, I was in fact a bit bored. It certainly isn't enthralling like Tarkovsky's version. Rheya's character is better developed, particularly her own psychological trauma in being a "creation" (Tarkovsky's Rheya was something of a naif in comparison). But what I missed from Tarkovsky's version is the sense of humor (this one is stiflingly earnest) and the evocative and poignant use of Bach chorales in the soundtrack. The soundtrack to this one is intriguing (a la Brian Eno, Ligeti, and Thomas Newman's scores for The Player and American Beauty), but I eventually found myself desperately longing for a cadence. Lacking the feeling of redemption communicated musically in Tarkovsky's version, this one had to rely on ham-handed statements of fact. And finally, I can't help remarking that neither Tarkovsky nor Soderbergh really convey the element of shame and sexual deviance that played such an important part in Lem's original. Both place the emphasis instead on guilt, which isn't quite the same thing, is it?

Solaris (2002)

Some might find Solaris slow, or slick, or opaque, and I think it is all those things and for a good reason. Unlike Moon (2009), which is like a Tom Waits (and simplified) version of the same core theme, or 2001 (1968), which has something utterly impersonal to distinguish it, Solaris is a love story. And you are meant to float--or better, you are meant to be weightless--in the experience.

The music (evocative dreamy music, by Cliff Martinez) alone makes clear we are in suspension. It's a trip, in the druggy sense and in spiritual sense. We have to figure out what these other beings really are (they look human, and some of them are) and we have to decide what it means to be alive (is it simply self-awareness?). We have to even decide whether the characters should live in the lie of some invented reality that feels utterly real, or to go for the old fashioned real thing and leave love behind.

If it's love at all. After awhile you realize it's a kind a narcissism. And then you wonder why not? Whatever works, right?

The movie is gently confusing. The lead is George Clooney. The whole movie is George Clooney. His love interest (undefined for here) is played by the big-eyed Natascha McElhone. If her staring eyes and gentle loving neediness seem a little overdone, it's for good reason. As you'll see (blame George). And the planet itself, exerting some kind of power over the consciousness of the humans on this floating (large) spaceship, represents something approaching God in its power and mystery. It's an atheist's movie, I'm sure, but filled with spiritual and human optimism.

Most viewers don't know that this is a remake, and hard core film buffs dismiss this American Steven Soderbergh version as Hollywood at its worst (big budget, sentimental, pretty beyond reason). The earlier Soviet version (from 1972) is really interesting, too, and parts of it are even slower. On purpose. Other parts seem dated, to me, and if I think of the effects and the idea as ahead of its time, I remind myself that this earlier one is after, not before, Kubrick's Space Odyssey and so the whole progression is skewed. The Soviet version also seems more sexist, more male dominant, and whatever demeaning qualities exist in this more recent one, they seem more in balance, man to woman, at least in a less male gaze way.

But academic analysis creeps in on a movie that is really much more about experiencing its mood, its tragedy and hope, and its delicate floating beauty, which I seem to enjoy without thinking too hard. There are moments, including the Michelangelo creation scene with the boy (yes!), that push it far too far (and seem Kubrick inspired, without Kubrick's icy sensibility). You might also be able to edit it differently to make it more compact. But these are debates to have once you've seen the movie. A warning: it's depressing to some people. To me, though, it's soothing. And the open ended qualities might make you want to see it again.