Solaris

February 2007

At Christmastime I was shopping for a gift DVD and ran across the 2002 Steven Soderbergh version of Solaris. I'd recalled reading comparisons of Solaris to 2001: A Space Odyssey, a movie I love. So, for $5 (used), I couldn't pass it up. What a bargain! But first...

I've been a long-time fan of the Polish SF writer Stanislaw Lem, whose novel Solaris was the basis of the movie. I do have many of his books, but Solaris is not among them. As it turns out, the Soderbergh Solaris wasn't the movie that I had read references to; those references were to the 1972 Andrei Tarkovsky Solaris. But I didn't know that until later.

A few days after Christmas I viewed my new acquisition. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with it. The pacing, the score, the visuals, even the casting -- I'd initially had doubts about George Clooney as Kelvin -- everything about it drew me in. Especially the not being beaten over the head with exposition and explication.

Having been wowed by this movie, I decided to learn more about it. That's when I discovered my error. I had actually seen the Tarkovsky Solaris a few years ago, just because I was a Lem devotee; but it didn't impress me enough to create a lasting memory. So, I decided to check it out of my local public library and watch it again. Zounds! It was almost unwatchable. I don't know how I got through it the first time, because I found it terminally tedious.

So let's get back to tack to the Soderbergh Solaris...
I have to admit, I'm a sucker for atmosphere, and that's where this film excels. And, like most Lem stories, this one is about ideas, so the "plot," if you will, is minimal; action is almost nonexistant. What you get is a film of thought and feeling, a big "what if" with big implications and no... well, the character Gibarian said it best: "There are no answers, only choices."
Having said this, what I've written here is my gut reaction to the film. (I loved it.) No experience of Solaris is complete without further exploration of the original, and a wonderful starting point is an essay by Paul Newall. Read it after you experience the film.