MOVIE CLUB: SOLARIS
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: In space, no one can hear you wonder what the hell is going on

Steven Soderbergh belongs to a small group of directors whose films I will see despite any and all criticism suggesting I do otherwise. Wes Anderson and Jim Jarmusch are the other two; and -- if he ever directs another film -- David O. Russell would be the fourth. I have to admit that my predilection for Soderbergh and his films stems equally from his films themselves and from the commentary he provides on the DVDs of his films. Having listened to his commentary for "Sex, Lies, and Videotape," "The Limey" and "Ocean's 11," Soderberg strikes me as someone in love with the art of making films. And not just the technique of making films, but the art of storytelling that is unique to filmmaking. Soderbergh comes off on these commentaries as humble; self-critical; confident, but not cocky; and always curious -- as much a student as an auteur. Last Wednesday afternoon, on the film’s opening day, I attended a matinee of Soderberg's "Solaris.” I didn't like it. Even worse, I left the movie confused -- unsure of what I was supposed to take from it. I don't mind leaving a film confused if that is the filmmaker's intent (David Lynch may not intend for me to leave his films perplexed, but I invariably do, and that didn't keep me from enjoying "Mulholland Drive"); but "Solaris" was clearly about something -- I'm just not sure what. At its essence, “Solaris” is a story of relationships, loss, and the psychology of mourning and forgiveness. Alone, a cinematic meditation on these ideas might have been interesting; but the film itself feels plot-heavy—and yet, at the same time, lacking in specifics. I honestly think I would have been less confused -- and found the film more moving -- if I had seen “Solaris” without its unnecessarily confusing dialogue. There is something very moving about the basic story as it is told visually: melancholy man (Clooney) is called to join a mission in deep space; man arrives to find evidence of some mischief (blood stains, dead bodies, etc.); man meets eccentric crew member (a bearded, tic-ridden Jeremy Davies) who gives him absolutely no indication of what the hell is going on; man meets another crew member (Viola Davis) who is so freaked out that she won't leave her room; man goes into his room, sleeps, wakes to find a woman in his bed (Natasha McElhone); man freaks out, goes to shocking ends to remove her from the ship; man has more confusing conversations with crew members; man goes back to sleep and the same woman returns; flashbacks to his past indicate that this woman is his girlfriend/wife; etc., etc. If it weren’t for the intrusive exposition that keeps hijacking the film, the music and the visual momentum of the story would make for a seriously creepy and profoundly moving film. “What is Solaris?”; “How should we get rid of the "visitors?" “How dangerous are the "visitors?" The film offered no answers to these questions, and I left the film wishing they hadn’t been asked. I look forward to watching the film again on DVD. I look even more forward to hearing Soderbegh’s DVD commentary, so I can finally understand what the film was about. As I finish this post, I learn that Adam has provocatively names "Solaris" as one of the best films of the year. I am eager to hear his thoughts. I am even more eager to see a film that I really like. I haven't written a good review of a film since this Movie Club began...For the record, of films I saw this year, I really liked "Punch Drunk Love," "Heaven," "Roger Dodger," "The Dancer Upstairs," "The Bourne Identity," "Full Frontal" and "About a Boy." I just wanted to get that out there.