Losing Contact
Zemeckis's universe is a box of chocolates
by Peter Keough
** CONTACT
Directed by Robert Zemeckis. Written by James V. Hart and Michael
Goldenberg based on the novel by Carl Sagan. With Jodie Foster, Matthew
McConaughey, James Woods, John Hurt, Tom Skerritt, Angela Bassett, William
Fichtner, Rob Lowe, David Morse, Jake Busey, and Bill Clinton. A Warner Bros.
release. At the Cinema World, Framingham, the Hoyt Franklin, Leominster,
Marlboro, the Maynard Fine Arts, the Solomon Pond Hoyt 15, and the Worcester
North Showcase.
Contact begins with an awesome sequence that poses the provocative notion that
the universe is a glimmer in the eye of a wondering child. It's hard to imagine
how the filmmakers might top this, and they don't. Their movie rapidly
deteriorates into a steady state of inert exposition, earnest platitudinizing,
exclamatory jargon, hit-or-miss social commentary, and pompous sententiousness
before resurging with a special-effects extravaganza that reduces the universe
to the visual equivalent of a Forrest Gump-ism. Redeemed somewhat by the
passionate intensity and intelligence, and occasional sanctimoniousness, of
Jodie Foster's performance, Robert Zemeckis's adaptation of the longwinded Carl
Sagan novel is earnest, humorless, and, despite its best intentions,
philosophically stimulating.
The premise combines the storyline of This Island Earth and 2001 without the
brisk naïveté of the former or the sophisticated ambiguity of the
latter. Ellie Arroway (Foster) is a quixotic scientist who scans the skies with
radio telescopes in search for intelligent extraterrestrial life. An orphan
à la The Silence of the Lambs, Arroway sublimates her own solitude into
a quest to find companionship for a human race seemingly alone in the abyss of
the universe.
Opposing her is Dr. David Drumlin (Tom Skerritt, suitably lubricious), the
publicity-seeking opportunistic presidential science adviser who is riding the
wave of anti-idealistic cost-cutting by trying to pull the plug on Arroway's
project. She finds an unlikely ally in new-age shaman Palmer Joss (Matthew
McConaughey, in a mix of self-righteousness and smarm), who literally provides
her with a moral compass -- a toy from a Cracker Jack box. The pair briefly
become strange bedfellows, but it's the Howard Hughes-like S.R. Hadden (John
Hurt, adding much needed irony) whose funding and omniscient guidance make the
difference. Still, after years of coming up with nothing but interstellar white
noise, Arroway finds herself with just a few months to put up or shut up.
Of course the universe obliges. Yet as exciting as contacting an alien
civilization might be as a concept, in cinematic practice it's lacking. It
translates into lots of shots of Foster staring thoughtfully skyward as she
listens in on headphones, or frantic technicians hammering away at keyboards,
intercut with the semi-surreal vista of a field of radio telescopes nodding at
the heavens.
You might well be nodding too before the extraterrestrials make contact
through a klaxo-like signal emitting from the star system of Vega, 26 light
years away. It summons government officials, religious zealots, banal
pop-cultists, and media stars playing themselves to Foster's secluded New
Mexico site, all trying to get their piece of the scientific discovery of the
millennium. After much tiresome decryption, the signal proves to be a design
for a machine (henceforth dubbed "The Machine") that resembles a high-tech ride
at Six Flags and that will transport a single human
being . . . somewhere. After much fitfully exciting
foreplay, Arroway is chosen as Earth's representative, and the celestial
roller-coaster ride is underway.
But not before the film relentlessly explores issues of religion versus
science (glibly embodied by Foster and McConaughey in awkward embrace),
self-seeking versus self-sacrifice, and the whole-ball-of-wax meaning of it
all. In the Carl Sagan manner, these musings tend to be pedantic and solemn, so
it's a relief to have James Woods on hand as skeptical and self-serving
National Security adviser Michael Kitz. He grounds the proceedings in a
serpentine cynicism and caustic wit. Also diverting and titter-inspiring are
appearances by President Clinton culled from news footage and smoothly inserted
to provide doublespeak policy statements on the unfolding Machine crisis.
As for the climactic special effects, they are not much more impressive than
your average planetarium show, consisting mostly of Foster vibrating in a chair
and gazing with awe, ecstasy, and terror at things that she claims "words can't
describe." Apparently, neither can state-of-the-art movie wizardry. Although
one could do worse than have Jodie Foster's face reflect the secret of the
universe, when she tries to relate it to others in plain English, the
staggering banality of this film shows through. Yes, the universe of
Contact is like a box of chocolates, and you know for certain it's soft
and gooey in the center.
NEW YORK -- A movie junket isn't a place where you'd expect people to get in
touch with their spiritual sides, but Robert Zemeckis's adaptation of the late
Carl Sagan's novel Contact begs certain questions. Like, do you believe
in God? Can religion and science co-exist? Is there life on other planets?
Would you sacrifice your life for the sake of ultimate truth? And how will
Contact do mano a mano against Men in Black?
"You get these really good questions with this, don't you?" says Jodie
Foster,
whose astronomer Ellie Arroway picks up a signal from an alien civilization and
is afforded an opportunity to pay them a visit. "I think that's the thing I
love most about this movie. You go to a coffee shop to do friends and suddenly
it sparks big questions about the meaning of life and things you don't usually
dwell on.
"I don't follow any kind of traditional religion. I have a great respect for
religions. But as far as in my own life I only have questions. Just as the
character says in the movie, there is no evidence one way or the other that God
exists. Though I do believe that needing the idea of a God is as instinctual
and human as having to eat and sleep and make fire. As for extraterrestrial
life, we would be foolish to believe that this small speck we inhabit is the
only possible life. The numbers just aren't with that idea. But I have no idea
what that means. And I haven't spotted any UFOs lately, so I don't fall into
that category."
Given her sublunary troubles, Foster might have good reason to turn her gaze
heavenward. Most recently her estranged brother Buddy published a book
restoking the perennial rumors about her sexuality. ("I've already issued a
statement on that," she answers tersely when asked about it. "I'm sure someone
can look it up for you.") But would she be tempted by the chance offered her
character in the movie? Would she voyage to Vega to attain superhuman knowledge
even though what for her would be a matter of hours would be 50 years on earth,
and everyone she knows will be dead on her return?
"I asked the scientists I interviewed for research the same question. I
expected they would take a few minutes to think about it before answering. All
right, I ask them, you're going on this mission, and you know for a fact that
you're going to have to leave your family and friends and never see them again.
But you have the opportunity to find out what's out there. And they always ask,
`And report it back?' Yes, and report it back. If so, would you take it on?
There's not a whisper of hesitation. Every single one of them says yes. I
couldn't say that. I think it's because I'm not a scientist. If they
couched it in different terms, that you have the opportunity of being part of
some great creative enterprise that changes mankind and is the most volatile
and incredible experience you ever had, would you leave this world and never
come back, I would probably say yes."
Meanwhile, Foster tries to attain that "great creative enterprise" in more
mundane ways, producing, directing, and acting in films that reflect her own
preoccupations. "I just keep making the same movie over and over again. The
theme of abandonment is a really big one for me. The moment in Nell when
she sits on the end of a jetty and realizes that she's lost someone and that
she will never be the same. That's the same journey Ellie takes. You can say
your dad is dead and accept it intellectually. But it's a much longer journey
to finally be able to let go and say goodbye. I know that's a personal thing
for me, not wanting to say goodbye. And the orphan thing, and the impossibility
of communication.
"I get to live on screen things that I don't get to live in my own life.
Things I wonder about, wonder how I would react, would I survive this
situation. It's a kind of shadow play. I get to act out things that I don't
feel brave about."
-- PK