Misunderstood Masterpieces: Contact
Posted by Will Helm on 06.20.2006
. . . or, Its the Answer AND the Reason
While science fiction is, by nature, fiction, the operative quality that sets it apart from normal tales is the inclusion of science. Hence, that's why it's called "science fiction." That makes a lot of sense. While many works of science fiction especially films violate basic rules of science in the name of telling a good story or just through ignorance there are a select few that try to keep true to scientific principles.
One such film is the star-studded adaptation of legendary astronomer Carl Sagan's novel Contact logically titled Contact. Released in 1997 and advised by for the most part, until his death Sagan himself, Contact brought together a galaxy of Hollywood stars as well as a celestial director to flesh out Sagan's tale. Featuring the collective star power of such luminaries as two-time Oscar-winner Jodie Foster, Matthew McConaughey, James Woods, Tom Skerritt, and even Bill Clinton in controversially utilized file footage and directed by Oscar-winner Robert Zemeckis, Contact gravely disappointed at the box office, slowly limping its way to a profit months after its release. One would believe that the awesome power of the stars in this film as well as the star director would lead to greater success but there must be something bigger at work. Could Contact's failings be the effect of a higher power? Or is it just a Misunderstood Masterpiece? Let's find out!
In space, there is rock. Not rocks, but rock music. And, as the camera slowly pulls away from Earth, more and more older and older radio broadcasts. Finally, happily, the universe achieves a wonderful silence as the camera reaches the end of the radio era. Somewhere, Guglielmo Marconi sheds a tear. In lieu of the cacophony of radio, the scene shifts to a big, bulbous nebula . . . in the eye of a little girl (Jena Malone). Something tells me this is supposed to be profound, but I just don't get it. While the girl is unaware of the fact that she has celestial bodies flying around in her eye, she calls up some guy in Pensacola, Florida, on her ham radio. She best be careful; he could be a sexual predator. Those radios were like the MySpace of the 70s.
Before a perverted Floridian can entice the young girl into going down . . . to the Sunshine State, her father (David Morse) enters the scene to keep an eye on her. Later, before bed, the little girl questions her father about the nature of radio broadcasts I sense a theme and she wonders aloud if it's possible to radio other planets. Her father humors her curiosity . . . until she begins mulling over the possibility of contacting her dead mother. Her father nixes that idea, so she changes the subject to talking to aliens. Something tells me someone is going to end up a mental patient by the end of this. Perhaps slightly confirming my suspicions, the little girl in a bout of insomnia fires up her radio and, in a fit of pique, she wishes for a bigger antenna. Probably so she can contact sexual predators from all over the world and beyond.
Some indeterminate time later, intrepid astronomer Dr. Eleanor Arroway (Foster) marvels at the sight of the Arecibo radar array in Puerto Rico. Meanwhile, her boss (William Fichtner) can't necessarily marvel at the sight because he's blind but he gives her a tour of the site anyway. Overnight, Dr. Arroway listens to her computer and she makes an amazing discovery right off the bat: a pulsar that's already been catalogued! Well, it might not be amazing but I guess it serves as some dramatic tension for the astronomy fans in the audience. After her "discovery," Dr. Arroway's boss is amazed at her commitment and then he perhaps unwarrantedly asks about her personal history. Before she can tell him everything, their colleagues show up and the boss shocks them all by revealing that Dr. Arroway is looking for aliens.
Ah, there's nothing more humbling than being the laughingstock of the astronomical community.
Sometime later, in town, Dr. Arroway meets a mysterious stranger named Palmer Joss (McConaughey) and they share a drink. Though Dr. Arroway expecting mockery reveals that she's looking for alien life at the Arecibo array, Palmer is unfazed by that information and instead he takes notes about Dr. Arroway. After a few minutes of introduction, Palmer reveals his true intent: he wants an interview with Dr. Arroway's old boss! Dum-dum-DUM! Well . . . it's not much of a revelation, as the old boss hasn't even really appeared in the film yet, but sometimes I have to take what I can get. Palmer, perhaps looking for a little fun after his work is done, asks Dr. Arroway on a date but she just leaves him behind . . . with a little tip as to her old boss' whereabouts later that evening.
Serendipitously, those whereabouts happen to be in Puerto Rico, where Dr. Arroway's old boss government official Dr. David Drumlin (Skerritt) is on hand to insult Dr. Arroway and then hobnob with other governmental types at a party that evening. It seems that Dr. Drumlin wants to use science to make money really, who doesn't? raising the ire of Dr. Arroway and her uninvited party-pooper, Palmer. In fact, right there at the party, Dr. Drumlin and Palmer have an impromptu debate and, through their remarkably civil argument, Dr. Arroway discovers that Palmer isn't just a mysterious stranger with a hard-on for Dr. Drumlin, but also sort of a renegade ex-missionary and priest.
Later that night, Dr. Arroway and Palmer who were more than likely forcibly ejected from the party share an astronomy lesson and then Palmer asks Dr. Arroway about her past . . . again. For some reason, Dr. Arroway tells Palmer about her father teaching her about the planet Venus. Evidently, this must be the astronomical equivalent of a pickup line, as Dr. Arroway and Palmer make out and then, in the blink of an eye, end up in bed together. I guess that explains why Palmer gave up the priesthood: it really cramps your ability to get some. In the afterglow, Palmer tells Dr. Arroway about some near death experience or something and then Dr. Arroway counters by telling him that she's actually an orphan. Umm . . . I think that's called "moving a bit too quickly."
After this shocking revelation, Dr. Arroway jumps from bed with a start and hurries to get dressed as she's late for her shift. Outside her bungalow, Dr. Arroway has a flashback to her, once more, as a little girl and marveling over a meteor shower. As she pesters her father to join her, he disappoints her by dying. Somehow, even though her father was on cardiac medication and never carried it with him, young Eleanor ends up blaming herself for his death which explains why she's inclined to have one-night stands with ex-priests and, as everyone at the funeral ignores her, she consoles herself by manning her ham radio again . . . which may also explain why she's inclined to have one-night stands with ex-priests. Damned sexual predators on ham radio!
Later that morning, Dr. Arroway goes to work to find her boss mumbling incoherently about going to New Mexico. After Dr. Arroway calms him down, the boss reveals that Dr. Drumlin fired them all . . . probably because Dr. Arroway brought Palmer to the party the night before. Now, for this, Dr. Arroway should blame herself. Instead of wallowing in her poor choice of dates, Dr. Arroway confronts Dr. Drumlin looking for answers; he merely tells her that he fired her "for her own good." Umm . . . that makes no sense. Dr. Arroway then scolds Dr. Drumlin for his lack of vision and then she rushes back to her bungalow and packs. She finds Palmer's phone number there waiting for her but, instead of calling her ex-priest hookup, she calls her boss and tells him she's willing to leave for New Mexico with him . . . and fund raising for him along the way.
Somewhere else, some time later, Dr. Arroway enters a post-modern office building to chat with some executives about funding. While Dr. Arroway contends that her team has permission from the government to set up shop in New Mexico, the executives think that Dr. Arroway and her project are crazy. Evidently Dr. Drumlin got to them beforehand. Dr. Arroway, perhaps proving the executives' instincts, freaks out at them for their shortsightedness in an eloquent but barely sane speech. Although, in her defense, Dr. Arroway's failings at fund raising for the past year may have taken a toll on the psyche. Luckily for Dr. Arroway, before the bloodshed can start, some mysterious benefactor calls the lead executive and tells him to give Dr. Arroway and her team their money! Mental note: whenever facing recalcitrant executives, go crazy to get my way.
Even more later, Dr. Arroway sits patiently in the middle of the New Mexico desert listening for anything strange and unusual. Maybe she should talk to Lydia Dietz about that. Meanwhile, back at headquarters, her new colleagues pass the time by goofing around. After Dr. Arroway returns, her boss tells her that, for some reason, he and Drumlin have a bit of a feud going and, therefore, the government wants the team out of New Mexico as soon as possible. The boss wants to give up but stubborn Dr. Arroway simply retreats to a canyon and pouts. I guess she used up all her "pleading her case" points earlier in the film.
For some reason, Palmer is on Larry King because he's hilariously a celebrity theologian and a religious Luddite; it's probably because Dr. Arroway never called him after their tryst. Meanwhile, Dr. Arroway's colleagues watch his interview and goof around more. Out in the desert, Dr. Arroway finally hears something and she excitedly radios in to base and her colleagues actually do something serious for once when they swing into action. Dr. Arroway rushes into the headquarters and she orders her colleagues around while spouting technical gibberish the whole time. Much to their chagrin, the mysterious signal disappears just when the team gets their equipment together . . . and then it starts up again. This unexpected pause is enough for the team to recognize a pattern: it's all prime numbers!!! Dum-dum-DUM!!!
Yawn.
After Dr. Arroway calls up Australia to confirm the signal and learns that it is indeed from space, specifically Vega, she goes public with her discovery. Once the news breaks, chaos breaks with it as everyone including the government shows up in New Mexico. Among the government agents on hand probably to silence Dr. Arroway with extreme prejudice are Dr. Drumlin and a very skeptical James Woods, National Security Advisor. After Dr. Arroway explains the mathematical nature of the signal to them, James Woods questions her a bit but they're rudely interrupted by Dr. Arroway's blind boss. James Woods, not content with the fact that his interrogation cannot be completed, simply scolds Dr. Arroway for going public with the information without permission. Bad, Dr. Arroway; bad!
While James Woods gives Dr. Arroway a stern lecture, the blind boss listens to the signal and discovers that there's more information with it! Not only is Vega broadcasting radio signals, they're also sending television signals as well. Dr. Drumlin and James Woods are mystified by this new discovery but their shock turns to horror when the new signal is revealed to be . . . one of Hitler's speeches! Wait . . . does that mean that the Vegans are Nazis? I always knew there was something sinister about those no-meat eating weirdoes. The government, rightly, is freaked out by this revelation and, even though Dr. Arroway has a perfectly logical explanation for the significance of the signal, no one believes her.
A few days hence, Bill Clinton gives a speech about the discovery and, in that inimitable Bill Clinton way, he hypes it up like the greatest thing since sliced bread. Meanwhile, down in New Mexico, the blind boss hears another signal but this time the government is on hand to kind of, sort of cover it up. Finally, at the presidential press conference, Dr. Drumlin gets the glory rather than Dr. Arroway; luckily for her, she's not busy enough to take a message from her boss. It turns out that, amazingly, the Vegans sent information with the Hitler speech; it's probably just a recipe for some nasty carob brownies or something. Of course, as the government is all up in that now, Dr. Arroway tells them about the even more new discovery . . . and they take over the project. I get the feeling that wasn't Dr. Arroway's original intention; that's what she gets for being honest.
Later, some mysterious figure watches a bunch of televisions and it seems that everyone is freaking out about the Vegans. I can't say I blame them; those Vegans are usually pale, stinky, and creepy anyway. Conservative pundit Rob Lowe, especially, doesn't like them. It's probably because they don't eat steak. Never trust anyone who doesn't eat steak. Down in New Mexico, pilgrims and protesters converge on the antenna site and, with it, Burning Man is founded. Dr. Arroway, at her clinical best, is mystified by the commotion but, meanwhile, Jake Busey isn't happy at all about . . . something.
That evening, Dr. Arroway receives a mysterious message and she agrees to meet this individual somewhere in rural New Mexico. Well, it's either a Vegan or the government strike force assigned with taking her out permanently. Instead, it's neither; it's just her reclusive benefactor from earlier in the film, John Hurt. Because if anyone knows about Aliens, John Hurt would. John Hurt, in all his creepy, reclusive glory, is impressed by Dr. Arroway's work and discoveries . . . and he knows everything about her. He does have one discovery of his own, though: he broke into the system and, in order to help Dr. Arroway's cause, he deciphered the key to the Vegan pages. Of course, there may just be tofu involved.
After her meeting with John Hurt, Dr. Arroway tells the government about the translation guide and then, as if it were planned that way, the scientists decipher that the Vegans sent blueprints! I hope it's not one of those weird cars that run on cooking oil or something. James Woods, once more, is skeptical because he thinks that Vegans are evil and, joining them at a committee meeting, Rob Lowe agrees. It must be because they refuse to admit that pork chops taste good and bacon tastes good. Oh, and also Rob Lowe just happens to be armed with . . . POLL NUMBERS! And he's dangerous. Palmer, somehow, sneaks into the meeting and he makes himself known by challenging Dr. Arroway's rhetoric for no particular reason. He, like his advisee Bill Clinton, takes more of a moderate tack but, rather than listening, Dr. Arroway gets distracted by his dreaminess and then Bill Clinton walks in to break up the fun.
After the meeting, Dr. Arroway and Palmer chat a bit and he confides perhaps a touch insincerely that he's happy for her. That evening, Dr. Arroway attends a huge gala in the name of science but, outside the hall, she's mesmerized by the scores of religious protesters and Jake Busey, who are there for no particular reason. Inside the party, Palmer turns the tables on Dr. Arroway by studying her décolletage and then she humors him by quoting him to him. Yes, that's confusing, but I guess that's how scientists flirt with theologians. After the witty banter, Dr. Arroway and Palmer retire to a balcony where they have a little chat about the nature of logic and theology; sometimes this film just can't get away from sounding like a college-level scientific ethics course. Actually, that's what it sounds like most of the time. Dr. Arroway, through the course of their conversation, confesses that she needs proof of things to believe in their existence and Palmer counters by going for a low-blow by bringing up her father for no particular reason.
Some yet indeterminate time later this film enjoys skipping around, I see the scientists discover that the Vegan blueprints are for a transport of some sort . . . and it looks oddly like a Volkswagen bus. Bill Clinton, probably to distract the populace from one of his dalliances, elects to build the device and Dr. Drumlin, shockingly, quits his post so that he can be the first to go. In time, ten nominees mostly American, of course are chosen while other nations subcontract for indirect riches. Meanwhile, Dr. Arroway must resign herself to merely being interviewed by a smug Bryant Gumbel. Then again, when isn't Bryant Gumbel smug?
Sometime later, Palmer chats with Dr. Arroway and, just to keep the science lesson going, they talk about the nature of relativity and time. Somehow, this leads to Palmer wanting to know why Dr. Arroway wants to go on the trip and she confesses that she's just adventurous like that. Probably the fact that she also has no one to leave behind on Earth has a lot to do with it too, but that goes unspoken. Palmer does push the issue, though, and then, after Dr. Arroway defends herself a little more vehemently, they make out again.
At a session of the selection committee, a horde of international diplomats question Dr. Arroway about her intentions on going to Vega or wherever the machine sends her. The diplomat in charge asks Dr. Arroway what she would ask the Vegans and Dr. Arroway gives her some sort of honest, clinical, and dull answer. Palmer, also on the committee for purely dramatic reasons, inquires about Dr. Arroway's spirituality and, unfortunately for her, she confesses that she sort of, kind of doesn't believe in God. Then again, she doesn't not believe in God . . . she just doesn't have any empirical proof. Dr. Drumlin, meanwhile, must have learned from Dr. Arroway's mistake as he tells the panel exactly what they want to hear. Ah . . . once a scientist, now a politician. I never knew those two aspects could coexist.
That night, Palmer visits a quite enraged Dr. Arroway in her room; she's not happy at all with him because he sabotaged her chance to go on the trip because she sort of, kind of doesn't believe in God. In fact, Dr. Arroway is so angry that she dramatically gives Palmer back his compass which he gave her back in Puerto Rico! Ooh . . . that means she means business. Later, Dr. Arroway is again dejected when Dr. Drumlin is unsurprisingly chosen to man the craft; she coldly congratulates them and he sort of apologizes to her . . . but it's plainly obvious that they're stifling their true feelings under their breath. Hell hath no fury like a scientist scorned.
Finally, Dr. Drumlin is in charge with the first test of the mysterious Vegan machine; hmm . . . maybe it makes wheatgrass juice. After the test starts, Dr. Drumlin shows off a bit for the cameras and, while he's grandstanding, Jake Busey shows up for no particular reason. After Dr. Arroway discovers his presence and a scuffle breaks out, Jake Busey blows up the machine and Dr. Drumlin for no particular reason. Of course, later, it's learned that Jake Busey is some sort of religious terrorist, but that's a lame cop out. Dr. Arroway, unsurprisingly, is upset by the project's failure and, later, the blind boss consoles her. In the literal sense; not the figurative sense. She's already had one one-night stand in the film . . . Dr. Arroway isn't an emotionally needy slut.
Back at Dr. Arroway's house, she receives an odd call from the Russians on the Mir space station . . . and John Hurt is with them. It seems that, sadly, he's dying, so the Russian government sent him up there to have some fun in his final days. That's awfully sweet of them. Anyway, John Hurt, mysterious benefactor that he is, gives Dr. Arroway a shocking revelation: there's a second machine in Japan! Even more shockingly, Dr. Arroway is the only candidate to man or woman, as the case may be this machine! Once in Japan, Dr. Arroway meets with her Q for the mission and then she's a bit argumentative when she learns that the Japanese installed a seat and seat belts. Well, that is the difference between a Chevy and a Honda. Meanwhile, the government, in their infinite wisdom, gives Dr. Arroway a cyanide pill, just in case she gets stranded in space. Either that, or they're tricking her into killing herself for them.
Before the mission, Palmer visits once more with Dr. Arroway and he confesses the real reason why he torpedoed her desire to go in the first place: he didn't want to lose her. Aww. Finally, Dr. Arroway strides confidently into the machine, where she's strapped and plugged in. Meanwhile, in mission control, Palmer brings in the blind boss for purely sentimental reasons while a still skeptical James Woods waits in the wings. In a moment that, in any other movie, would be emotionally uplifting, the blind boss radios Dr. Arroway to say "hi" and they share a laugh.
Once the mission starts, Dr. Arroway starts getting a bit nervous and a bit shaky literally. Meanwhile, her pod starts to freak out beneath her, bending the laws of physics. Mission control, on the other hand, can't see anything . . . until the machine opens a dimensional portal! Oh great . . . here come the demons. And, while the Vegans don't eat meat, they do . . . particularly of the human variety. While only the blind boss can hear Dr. Arroway since he's blind and has the stereotypical super-hearing that goes with it mission control drops Dr. Arroway into the machine anyway and she falls through a wormhole! I bet she'll be able to say "hello" to Benjamin Sisko on the other side.
In the midst of the wormhole, Dr. Arroway has an impromptu acid trip and starts seeing stars through the metal. In order to get a closer look, Dr. Arroway gets out of her seat and floats around; meanwhile, her seat falls apart through some sort of physical power. Finally, Dr. Arroway has some sort of flashback and she ends up poking at an innocent galaxy while on a beach somewhere. I'm sure she just destroyed countless civilizations with her curiosity; I'll just suppose they had cats and leave it at that. Then, unbelievably, out of the mists, her father appears! But it's not really her father, it's a Vegan! Maybe he'll explain why they really don't eat any animal products or, more interestingly, whether they spit or swallow. Instead of explaining anything, Dr. Arroway's Vegan father merely lets loose with a dramatic monologue after which Dr. Arroway returns to Earth. Well, that was . . . disappointing.
Unfortunately for Dr. Arroway, while she was off jetting around the universe, everyone in mission control merely saw her fall through the machine unimpeded, so they all believe the mission was a failure. Even Bill Clinton, usually ever the optimist, struggles to figure out just what happened. Later, even Congress is on the case, as they question Dr. Arroway about her little "trip" and she replies by explaining the concept of wormholes to them. James Woods, no longer a skeptical National Security Advisor and now a skeptical Congressman, tears Dr. Arroway apart because he believes it's all a hoax engineered by John Hurt . . . which would be impressive if he wasn't dead at the time.
After some other politician questions Dr. Arroway's faith and then James Woods scolds her, Dr. Arroway pontificates once again. Since she doesn't seem to be much of a scientist, I guess that's all she's good for at this point. Once again, Palmer comforts Dr. Arroway after the ordeal in front of the politicians and, before he gets in his limousine, he gives the reporters on hand an eloquent sound bite. Later, James Woods learns from a presidential advisor much to his chagrin that somehow Dr. Arroway's video camera recorded eighteen hours of static, even though she wasn't supposed to be gone at all. Elsewhere, Dr. Arroway tells kids about satellite dishes in New Mexico, where she lives happily and overheated ever after . . . until the Vegans invade the planet. Or the demons. And this time, unlike her father's death, it will be ALL HER FAULT.
All things considered, Contact feels like it should be a well-received film. It has a profound and interesting message it's really all about the concept of faith, a moral that is plainly obvious at the end and it flows well over the course of its length. Unfortunately, while the film is interesting, it all adds up to nothing much in the end. While some may consider this "dramatic," I consider it more "anticlimactic." While that may have been Carl Sagan and the filmmakers' intent all along, the movie all adds up to nothing and, in some ways, begins right where it ends. The characters don't learn anything and the events of the film end up being just a tempest in a teapot. Whenever a film becomes a Möbius strip of disappointment, that can only mean one thing: it's a Misunderstood Masterpiece.
Join me next week as two great thespians team up to bring the world the origin of a long-running South Park joke. See you then!
