Movies : November 2002

27 November 2002

Solaris (2002)

Reading Solaris as a youth in high school must have offered me some exotic pleasure (a Polish science-fiction author, no less) and watching the 1972 Russian film soon thereafter a welcome, if baffling, treat. But seeing the movie again as an adult, and recognizing the pathetic attempt to depict the future by using what was then present-day Japan (and its easily recognized late sixties vehicles), I found the pleasures in its long running time few and far between. In shortening that running time in half, screenwriter and director Steven Soderbergh has chopped those remaining pleasures in half as well, eliciting a laugh only from those quick enough to recognize them. Chris Kelvin (George Clooney), whose name has been Anglicized (the screenplay does not mention Dostoevsky, either), is efficiently established as a lonely psychiatrist who is requested to visit the station in orbit above the planet Solaris, where a scientific mission has experienced unexplained goings-on and a rescue force has disappeared. Upon arrival, he takes in the blood spatters around the station, the dead body of his friend Gibarian, the goofy approach of Snow (Jeremy Davies), and the defensive posture of Gordon (Viola Davis). Soon enough, Kelvin finds out what has addled the team as a guest from his memory materializes: his wife Rheya (Natascha McElhone) dead by suicide several years earlier. As abbreviated as it is, Kelvin’s first response to the appearance of his love (as appreciated in flashback) remains amusing in its directness. I still wonder what author Lem was after (the difficulty of communication? the perils of first contact?) but as Kelvin and Rheya continue their relationship knowing that the original met a bad end, stuff happens. McElhone, a strong presence in Ronin against a multinational cast of leading men, remains opaquely clothed throughout, sparing us the diaphanous blouse that accompanied the resurrection performance of Natalya Bondarchuk in the Mosfilm production.

98 minutes.

16 November 2002

Real Women Have Curves

Mothers. Ana (America Ferrara) knows what trouble they can cause. On her last day of high school, her mother Carmen (Lupe Ontiveros) is delaying her by complaining of pains the entire family (sister Estela, father, a few brothers) knows are bogus but are unwilling to challenge. Ana was such a bright student that she went to the high school in Beverly Hills, and her teacher of English there really hopes she will apply to Columbia University (a bit late to be thinking about that on the last day of school, but the screenplay needs to get its players in place to deliver the messages). Ana knows there’s no hope of convincing her parents that she should be college-bound and instead quits her job at the burger place and agrees to work at Estela’s dress factory. (That Estela’s name is freshly painted over someone else’s is a small touch to emphasize the precarious economics involved.) Carmen never misses an opportunity to deride Ana for her weight, either. Then, the mother of another worker decides to move the whole family back to Mexico, and Estela (Ingrid Oliu) is left without the staff to finish an order of dresses or the financial wherewithal to make it to the end of the month. And what’s this? Ana is talking on the telephone with a boy? (He must be ok, he uses a blueberry iBook courtesy of Apple Computers.) Ups: Ferrara reminds me of Michelle Rodriguez in Girlfight from a few years ago; she may spout feminist propaganda but she’s got energy to spare; Carmen’s manipulations know no bounds. Downs: just the unlikelihood of entering Columbia University a month after applying.

82 minutes.

Entries subject to editing at any time. Last edited on: 12-Sep-2004