GATTACA (63)

Directed by: Andrew Niccol

Starring: Ethan Hawke, Uma Thurman, Jude Law, Alan Arkin

The Pitch: In a (near?) future where genetics determines one's status in society, an "inferior" citizen carries out an elaborate deception.

Theo Sez: Someday, one assumes, all Hollywood movies will look this incredible - a natural next stage in their visual progression, borrowing style (and personnel) not from commercials and MTV but from their arthouse cousins to create that atmosphere of vibrant alienation familiar to fans of Kieslowski's star DP and Greenaway's favourite composer : the result isn't so much stylish as "chic", adding a dollop of blasé weariness, substituting a denuded European feel for the usual American bustle as it loses characters in wide-angle spaces awash in filters and idle peripheral beauty (cigarette smoke wafting in a wine glass, stuff like that). It takes about an hour to realise that, behind the elegant trappings, is the same old Hollywood movie, and not even as coherent as it might be - the later scenes don't always make much sense (why do the police turn up at the club? why does everyone run away in panic when they do? why does the detective need Irene to accompany him to Jerome's house?), and the swimming-contest scene, screwing up the narrative for the sake of thematic "relevance", could only have been left in by a writer directing his own script ; above all, in the ultimate giveaway, the moody visuals turn out to be merely cover for a familiar just-do-it message, abjuring class distinctions and insisting that rewards will come if you're unafraid to take risks and committed to giving it Everything You've Got ("My secret," says our hero in an Author's Message moment, "is I didn't save anything for the trip back to shore!"). The key is perhaps that, though Niccol wants to hit the same buttons (and explore the same themes) as meditations on Identity like DOUBLE LIFE OF VERONIQUE, his perspective is essentially New-World capitalist (whether American or Antipodean), full of can-do optimism, unable to follow through on the alienation he finds so fascinating ; in the end, all he really does is skate around his subject, find nuggets of visual imagination amid some fairly witless dialogue, and create a number of rich, magical surfaces. And, of course, grossly underuse Uma Thurman.