Because Cloud Atlas
(now playing) is such a multifaceted film, it is difficult to determine which
of its aspects is most deserving of my immediate attention.
Certainly, its actors must be commended. Tom Hanks, Halle
Berry, and Hugo Weaving (to name a few) each adopt several different roles,
which, when totaled, must account for nearly twenty individual characters. If
that were not impressive enough, each of these characters is from a different period
in history, and each possesses a unique personality, intellect, social standing,
and vernacular. Hugo Weaving, for example, manages to execute the role of an assassin
in one story; then, in another, he dons an apron and converts into a female
nurse who intimidates and abuses the residents at an assisted-living home.
Such transformations, however, though achieved brilliantly
by the cast, would not have been possible without the physical alterations
created using makeup and costumes. Indeed, these modifications enable the
actors to morph seamlessly into characters of varied ages, ethnicities, and
genders, while maintaining enough of their original features so that they are
recognizable. There are a few glitches in this process, of course (Hugo
Weaving, try as he may, cannot mask the fact that he is a man, though this only
adds to the comedy of that particular story), but, overall, it works very well.
Even without these considerations, the story at the heart of
the film is, itself, quite complex. After all, there isn’t really one story,
but several, and they are all fixed during different periods in history. One is
set in the 1930’s, for example, another in the 1970’s, still another in the
year 2012, and one in the year 2144. As the film begins, short clips from these
various times are strung together without any apparent connection. This format
is used throughout the entirety of the film’s 172 minutes, though it provides little
more than the occasional hint at an ultimate explanation for such an olio of
scenes.
One such story unfolds as follows: Somewhere in Asia, in the
year 2144, a variant form of a master-slave system is firmly established
between the government and its subjects. One young woman, for example, carries
out her monotonous existence as a restaurant server in a completely controlled,
methodical way. She must arise at a certain hour, wear certain clothes, work a
certain way, and then go to bed. Repeat that cycle and it is easy to understand
her life. In fact, the most unpredictable happenings in her average day are the
kinds of abuses to which she must be subjected at the hands of the “consumers,”
all of which she quietly endures. If she does not, she will suffer the
consequences. After she witnesses the death of her friend, however (who was
openly defiant toward this abusive system), she somewhat unwillingly becomes
entangled in the political mess when she is whisked away by a daring rebel
agent.
In the year 1937, a young man gains employment as an aging
composer’s assistant. Sitting at the piano, he both plays and writes his
master’s narrated creations. In his spare time, he produces his own
compositions, including a masterpiece which he names Cloud Atlas. One night, his master awakens him, claiming that he has
heard the most wonderful music in a dream. When he prepares to hum it, however,
his memory fails him. A short while later, the young man plays his creation, Cloud Atlas, which elicits a cry of
recognition from his master, who exclaims that that was the music he had heard
in his dream. An ugly dispute follows over who should claim authorship of such
a magnificent work. The master blackmails the young man, who, in turn, commits
suicide, though not after defending to the end his place as the real composer.
Cloud Atlas is, to
say the least, a highly ambitious film. It dares to explore and expand the boundaries
of ordinary cinema by combining multiple plotlines, each of which could,
theoretically, support its own movie. In a similarly bold fashion, it uses these
individual stories to ultimately present certain philosophical thoughts, as
opposed to merely relating a story. Interestingly enough,
though these thoughts act as the movie’s connecting themes, they are concealed
for a long time and never fully divulged. As I sat and watched Cloud Atlas unfold, for example, I was
not aware of the relevance of each story and its connection to the others until
the film was well on its way. I simply had to accept the fact that I would
remain ignorant for quite some time and content myself to enjoy the various individual
pieces of the film as they presented themselves. This is not to say that I
switched my brain to the “off” position and viewed Cloud Atlas on autopilot. On the contrary, it would have been
nearly impossible for me to do so considering the film’s mind-bending
intensity.
If all of this seems a little vague, then I have accurately
mirrored Cloud Atlas. I cannot simply
summarize its plot, as with other movies, since it is so complex and obscure,
supporting an idea rather than a story. What idea is this? Again, any two
viewers may have differing opinions, but, from what I deciphered, a few major
themes are evident. The first is that truth will prevail, no matter how much it
is suppressed; second, it is truly noble to work for a cause greater than
yourself; and, finally, one person can create change. One of the most memorable
lines in the entire film is in reference to this last point: A skeptic refutes
his nephew’s efforts by claiming that they are merely a drop in a vast ocean,
to which his nephew responds, what is an ocean, but a multitude of drops? There
exist, also, certain political and social themes, which may be considered
either preachy or merely vital to at least two of the different plotlines.
Needless to say, Cloud Atlas is a
complicated, mindboggling film, in a category all its own, and sure to be
nominated for multiple Oscars.
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Grade: A-
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Rated R for
violence, language, sexuality/nudity and some drug use
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Running Time: 172 minutes
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