Solaris (December 7/02)
Steven Soderbergh's Solaris, based on the novel by Stanislaw Lem, is a science fiction masterpiece. Most films of this genre (as of late) lean more towards the action/adventure side, like this summer's Minority Report. But it's been a good long while since there's been a sci-fi flick that's more internal than anything else; those looking for a Star Wars type will be deeply disappointed. But those prepared for a deliberately paced and thoughtful exploration of loss will be rewarded with one of the best films of the year.
Set in an undetermined point in the future, Solaris stars George Clooney as Chris Kelvin - a therapist who's recently lost his wife. He's going through the motions of his life, but gets the chance for something different after he's called upon to travel to a space station and discover what happened to the crew (who have stopped communicating). Upon arriving, Kelvin immediately notices that something is off onboard (there's a trail of blood and nobody is around). After discovering the bodies of three crew members, Kelvin meets the two survivors - an odd man named Snow (Jeremy Davies) and a frightened and reclusive woman named Dr. Gordon (Viola Davis). They prove to be entirely unhelpful, but Kelvin soon makes a startling discovery - his dead wife appears in his bedroom one night.
If nothing else, Solaris is one of the most astoundingly gorgeous movies you're likely to see in a while. From the stainless steal decor of Kelvin's apartment to the cold and impersonal blues of the space station, the set design of Solaris is simply breathtaking. Soderbergh's cinematography (yep, once again he's acting as his own director of photography) perfectly captures the stunning sets and for once, Soderbergh restrains himself regarding handheld camera usage. The sets demand slow pans, and Soderbergh delivers. Cliff Martinez's score perfectly complements the spare, glossy look of the film. Solaris is that rare movie in which everything has come together seamlessly.
But more than that, Solaris requires an attentive viewer. This isn't a movie for the Jackass generation. Like 2001 before it, Solaris unfolds at a deliberate pace (yes, that's critic-speak for slow, but in this case slow just doesn't apply), which allows the viewer to make discoveries along with Clooney's character. A lot of questions raised by the movie are left unanswered, but that's certainly not a bad thing. Solaris is bound to provoke discussions, mostly about what the end means, and its images will linger long after the final credits have rolled.
It doesn't hurt that the movie features Clooney's best performance thus far. As Kelvin, he's got to convey a lot of anguish and confusion, and Clooney leaves behind the mannerisms we've come to expect from him and delivers a fully realized character. As his wife, Natascha McElhone brings an air of mystery to the movie - and also manages to turn her character into someone we're not sure we should trust (is she going to flip out and kill Kelvin, or become his lover? It's impossible to tell). Davies and Davis are just as good, with Davies giving yet another enjoyably quirky performance.
Inexplicably, Solaris isn't just doing badly at the box office, but most audiences seem to actually dislike the film. Finally, there's a movie that's not only incredibly entertaining, but one that makes the viewer think - but does John Q. Public want anything to do with something like that? Apparently not. But for those who are looking for something more than big explosions and bawdy jokes in their films, Solaris fits the bill.
