Cloud Atlas

You know what really sucks? Roger Ebert passed away over a year ago now. There are very few movie reviewers that I would actively go out and read on a regular basis, or hunt down their opinion on, but Ebert was the top. We didn't always agree, but I have a tremendous amount of respect for his writing, his knowledge and opinions on all things movies. In the past few movies I've watched, I make a cursory Google search for that film. I land upon the basic sites, like iMDB and Wikipedia, where I can gather some information. Then, I see just below those results, articles from other sites, including reviews. And Ebert's articles always seem to be on the first page. Reading his reviews on movies that I'm just discovering now brings about mixed emotions: sadness, that he is gone and can't hear his opinions anymore, but happiness as well, for the contributions that he shared with us. Cloud Atlas is the latest movie where I sought out Ebert's column, and was again pleased to find a well written article that didn't try to pick apart the film or attempt to explain how it all comes together. This particular quote stands out to me:

I gave up any attempt to work out the logical connections between the segments, stories and characters. What was important was that I set my mind free to play.

His approach to simply consume the movie as is stood out to me, and made me realize that I perhaps tried to watch it incorrectly - if such a thing is possible. Halfway through the film I did just this though, as I consumed without the concern of trying to delve into secret meanings or even trying to tie the pieces of the film together. I quite enjoyed it, and yes, will be making plans to watch it again.

Cloud Atlas was a difficult film to finally sit through. It was difficult to find anybody to go see this movie with initially, so I resolved to go - on a Sunday afternoon - by myself. It's lengthy, clocking in at just under three hours, but the buzz surrounding the film sold me. I grabbed a quick lunch and made my way to the theatre, at which point my phone buzzed with a phone call, which was a bit different than the typical texts. It wasn't anything important, but a simple invitation from a friend to spend the afternoon visiting local sites. In an effort not to decline social invitations, I accepted, and put Cloud Atlas off. I never had a chance to go back to the theatre to see it.

After some time, it became available for home viewing and my same friend from before said we need to watch it together, which I would love to do. But schedules happen, days slip by, followed by months. Finally, something gives, and my friend cannot wait any longer - I don't blame him, and he tells me he would love to watch it again. Unfortunately there were more pressing things, and it never came to be. Vdio launched, and I signed up. It was the video offshoot of Rdio, which I absolutely adored. However, Vdio wasn't the same all you can eat monthly cost like Netflix was. You had to buy movies, which I had very little interest in doing digitally (I maintain a selection of physical Bluray films). The service was struggling, so they gave me $25 of credit to buy anything on the store. I went and immediately spent that credit on Cloud Atlas. However, it wasn't meant to be: Vdio went under a few months later and I lost access to the movie.

Visiting with my parents, they decided to give Cloud Atlas a try. I think we got about thirty minutes into the film before they wanted to turn it off. It seemed complicated, jarringly cutting between time periods. And it was three hours long. I was beginning to think it wasn't meant to be. That was, until a couple of weeks ago, when I stumbled upon the Bluray copy of Cloud Atlas at a very reasonable rate. Another friend said, without question, purchase the film and watch it. So I did.

I wasn't blown away. Expectations had grown over the past two years to a degree that wouldn't allow me to reach that level of satisfaction with the film. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of the film either, or really what type of movie it was. The actors each play many different roles in the film, which is composed of six core time periods. You get an introduction to each time period, just as you would with any story. They seem unrelated to begin with, and we keep jumping from one to another. We discover that each timeline is its own story, and slowly, we star to see parallels running between them. Maybe they are related. Events in some timelines seem to have an effect on others. Is time a loop? Do they run in parallel?

The entire thing is masterfully put together. Following each story is effortless - for the most part - and before you know it, the film comes to a conclusion that seems to pull it all together. The actors do a fantastic job, and are often unrecognizable in their various roles. When the credits roll, they give you images of each of them, and I was pleasantly surprised as many of them I had no idea were acting in a part that I had just watched for the past three hours. The film is ambitious, and delivers on different levels. No, I didn't understand everything, but I know now that I don't need to. I'll finish with another quote from Ebert's review, which can be found here.

But, oh, what a film this is! And what a demonstration of the magical, dreamlike qualities of the cinema. And what an opportunity for the actors. And what a leap by the directors, who free themselves from the chains of narrative continuity. And then the wisdom of the old man staring into the flames makes perfect sense.

The Stuff

Starting a story can be difficult, I understand. It's an important part of the story structure, and when done properly or even differently, can draw you in, turn you away, or set the tone for what is to come. Years ago I had a thought that I should put together a web site that featured the opening credits of various movies. There must be a neat history lesson to learn here, but what I saw in many modern films is the complete lack of opening credits. Oftentimes, you don't even get the title of the movie until the very end, which can help immerse you into the film from the beginning then slap your face at the end to wake you up from the alternate reality you've just sat through to remind you that it's been a movie the entire time. A final blow to follow up on perhaps a revelatory ending. Or maybe the title comes up slowly, to ease you back into the real world.

When you put a movie on, before the beginning of the story, you get all the logos of the various studios involved in the creation of the film. This has become an art form upon itself, as more movies have taken it upon themselves to modify the logo a bit to suit the film's tone. The logos are typically animated, and run for ten to fifteen seconds. On some productions, you'll sit there for an entire minute before the movie starts, which is either frustrating, or a helpful aide to ease you into the experience.

The Stuff does it a bit differently. As it casts aside any association with production studios, the first frame jumps into the setup of the story, producing a jarring effect that doesn't really let up for the rest of the story. I guess, you could say, it helps set the tone for the rest of the movie, as it does away with any pretense that this is a legitimate film. Or maybe the copy of the movie we were watching had that element cut out - which is highly unlikely as it's never happened before. The scene is pretty simple and plays out the brief description of the film I read beforehand: a miner discovers a white ooze coming out of the ground, tastes it to find that it's delicious, then immediately declares that he can make a fortune selling it. Then we get a bit of overlay credits, including the title of the film, which affirms to me that we didn't just start the movie ten minutes in.

We're quickly introduced to Mo, a corporate saboteur who takes a contract from the ice cream industry to look into how the white ooze is made, as it is now packaged and sold as The Stuff. Mo is played by Michael Moriarty with an absolute genius performance, nearly breaking the fourth wall in scenes so ridiculous that they must have gone through many takes to get. He works with what he gets though, with some truly ridiculous dialogue, but is also given an opportunity to improvise in many of the scenes. So much of his dialogue is delivered through a half smile, that it's either a perfectly content, smug, confident character or it's just that laughable. Either way, it's an absolute treat to watch.

A young boy sees The Stuff moving on its own inside his family's refrigerator and freaks out - of course, but takes it to a whole new level by going on a rampage in the grocery store. The kid really plays it up, and tries to evade his family who are now under the control of the white ooze. It doesn't take long before he teams up with Mo (and is quickly abandoned without much thought) to discover the source of The Stuff and what it's doing to the populace of the country. They're joined by the woman who spearheaded the advertising campaign to make The Stuff as popular as it is, although at one point she mentions that it practically sells itself. The crew is also joined for a bit by "Chocolate Chip Charlie," who if I can recall was a CEO of a cookie company who has been kicked aside. So he fights back with his fists, which leads us into some nice comedic, gruesome fights.

The film moves along at a good pace, typically getting right into the substance of each scene. I think the movie achieves more than it's B-Movie goals, providing us with cult movie fuel by embracing the absurd and running with it. Larry Cohen, the director, was aiming to put a bit of commentary in on consumerism in the 80's, with an exaggerated parallel to the cigarette and alcohol industry: it may be bad for us, but we can't stop ourselves from consuming more and the overbearing advertising serves as a reminder and push to use/drink/ eat more. Just as in Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD, victims of The Stuff become zombies, their minds controlled and bent on spreading the ooze to more carriers. Messages of corporate greed, control and corruption are hammered home, especially after the day has been saved. The film has been described as a bit of a time capsule for the decade, so it's a fascinating way to look back at the years where I was just a child, oblivious to it all but still very much part of it.

"Enough is never enough"