How disease can spread without your knowing it. |
Leave it to director Steven Soderbergh to take a worn out
movie premise and zap us with a unique take. How many iterations of the global
pandemic film can we take? That’s what I thought when I saw the ads for Contagion, which rather unfortunately
make the film look much more like an action thriller than it really is.
Soderbergh, working from an original screenplay by Scott Z. Burns, guts the
genre of just about everything we expect. There are no chases. There’s no government
cover up, though one particularly repugnant character hints at one. There’s no
thumping and pounding musical score. There’s no child in danger (actually, a
young child is dispatched early on with very little fanfare and no time for
reflection) and no last minute rescue or rush to manufacture a vaccine to save
the world.
So what’s left, you might ask? What remains is a
generally smart screenplay that takes the beginning premise of a deadly virus
and explores how such a pandemic would be dealt with at various levels of both
government and health departments. It’s an entirely unsensationalized treatment
of the subject. It’s a slow burn in which many people get sick and many of
those people die, where officials are mostly trying to do what they can to stop
the spread of disease, although they also recognize the importance (a
recognition that much of the public might not attain) of limiting information
to prevent mass hysteria.
Without drawing attention to itself as a technique,
Soderbergh, who also operates his own cameras under the pseudonym Peter
Andrews, forces us to notice, even before we’re acutely aware of any disease,
the ways in which bacteria and virus can spread. As a man gets on a bus, the
camera just catches his hand holding a pole. Some shots draw our attention to
the way someone touches his nose and then touches a public object or hands
something to another person. All this information is conveyed in the first
moments of the film and because we know what the film is about, we know what
Soderbergh is up to. When Gwyneth Paltrow lets out a little cough, we know
she’s doomed.
Paltrow plays Beth Emhoff, who brings the virus with her
from Hong Kong on her return trip through Chicago (to meet her lover) on the
way to Minneapolis. She dies shortly after returning and her young son takes
ill shortly after that. Her husband Mitch (Matt Damon), however, never shows
any symptoms. Will he be the key to the cure? This isn’t Outbreak where the big secret was finding the original host monkey
to magically create a vaccine in twelve hours. Mitch asks why they can’t just
take his blood and make a vaccine. It’s more complicated than that, he’s told.
Right there is the key to this movie. Everything depicted in Contagion points to the fact that
epidemic disease is unbelievably complex and virtually impossible to control.
Only science, the slow and methodical process of hypothesis, testing, and
discovery can find a solution.
Contagion does
for the epidemic disease thriller what Soderbergh’s fantastic Traffic did for cops and robbers movies.
He takes all the romance out of it and presents it for what it is. Like Traffic, Contagion also uses a laundry list of characters and recognizable
actors spread out over distant locations. Laurence Fishburne is Dr. Cheever, an
official at CDC in Atlanta. Kate Winslet is Dr. Mears, whom he sends to
investigate in Minnesota. Marion Cotillard is Dr. Orantes with the WHO, sent to
Hong Kong. Other smaller roles are filled by the likes of Bryan Cranston, John
Hawkes, Elliott Gould, Jennifer Ehle, and Jude Law as pot-stirring blogger Alan
Krumwiede, who tries to convince his 12 million unique visitors that a
particular herbal medicine can cure the disease, but the government won’t tell
you that because they’re in bed with the pharmaceutical companies. This is the
kind of drivel we hear from a very vocal minority of people in real life and it
was utterly satisfying to see his character receive his just deserts in the
end.
The thing that really sets this film apart from others
that fall within its subgenre is its treatment of the material as cinema
verite. This feels like something that could happen. In fact, Burns’ screenplay
makes it a point to observe recent epidemic scares such as bird flu and swine
flu. Officials in the film also point out, when trying to calculate the
potential impact of the fictional movie virus, that the Spanish flu of 1918
killed about 3 percent of the world’s population. This frightening fact gives
them and us a moment of pause as we consider that the Spanish flu, like the
movie virus, was a never-before-seen strain of influenza that stumped
epidemiologists worldwide. I have a feeling that if a large scale deadly
epidemic were to break out, it would happen something akin to the scope
presented in Contagion. The kind of
deadly virus that kills every single human being in its path, like that in Outbreak, is cinematically dramatic with
the bleeding orifices and liquefied organs, but it doesn’t frighten me on a
visceral level.
Contagion made
me fearful of something dreadful around the corner. It’s the only movie I can
think of that has no monster, no villain, and no killer (in human or animal
form, that is), but managed to have me nervous and looking over my shoulder. This
is because Soderbergh and his editor Stephen Mirrione (who also wove coherence
out of Traffic and Alejandro González
Iñárritu’s Babel and 21 Grams) keep it moving almost like a
clinical study. The dialogue is notable not for its big pronouncements and
shocking developments, but for its steady and measured calculus and for the
actors’ calm and professional delivery. Drs. Mears and Orantes don’t have moments
of desperation where they have to get some obtuse government official to do
what they say lest half the world die. They simply stick to the facts and try
to make decisions on the ground that are likely to help as many people as
possible and stop the spread of disease. The film exhibits patience, you could
say.
I did feel that it takes a few too many shortcuts,
particularly in having the country devolve into complete anarchic chaos rather
quickly. How long would it take for people to revert to animalistic behavior,
fending for themselves in a Darwinian struggle to reap maximum rewards for
minimum risk? I would venture to say longer than Contagion suggests, but maybe that’s just me. Although I did like
the parallel drawn between the spread of viral disease and the dissemination of
a meme after Cheever provides a warning to a loved one to evacuate the city.
As technically proficient as Soderbergh is and as well as
he handles complex material with an even hand, the biggest fault I find with
much of his work is the apparent lack of empathy he has. His films, with a few
notable exceptions, are often devoid of emotional investment. Contagion falls into the latter
category. Where I should have been deeply concerned for Damon’s character and
his teenage daughter whom he protects by sealing her off from the world for
many months, I felt only cold calculation. The over-packed screenplay has too
little time for him to grieve over the deaths of his wife and stepson. That
said, there are some lovely and touching moments at the close that almost make
up for the rest.
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