Poffy
Sagan
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Buried
within The Message from Vega - The Message from Sagan.
by
Jon Dunmore © Oct 2005.
Close
Encounters of the Third Kind needed updating. Contact
is that update. Though it may never attain the lofty heights
of commercialism that Close Encounters enjoyed, Contact
is, in fact, a more intelligent vision of extra-terrestrial
communication with our outer-spiral-arm planet.
From
science maven Carl Sagan's optimistic novel of the same
name, the movie is based on the ideology of the Drake Equation
(the speculative theory postulating multitudes of Life-harboring
planets in this galaxy, given the sheer quantity of possibly
habitable worlds), defined in the movie by the almost-too-cute
syllogism: "If we are alone in the Universe, it sure
seems like an awful waste of space."
The
Drake Equation is weighed against the Fermi Paradox, which
argues that if there are alien civilizations, why
haven't we detected them yet? This movie's plot - obviously
- negates that paradox.
Whereas
Close Encounters' method of alien contact played
on the age-worn industrial-era concept of aliens physically
visiting Earth, an infinitely more efficient manner is effected
in Contact by means of radio waves. SETI astronomers,
headed by Ellie Arroway (perfect-featured Jodie Foster in
sensual, leonine mane), stumble upon distinctly intelligent
radio signals originating near the star Vega. In decoding
The Message, they are astonished to find it is not merely
a rudimentary greeting, but rather a technologically-superior
detailed schematic for a Machine, to transport US to THEM.
Considering
the economics of space travel - not referring to money,
but expending energy - The Message defines the most judicious
method for establishing contact, whilst discerning whether
a recipient civilization is ready and/or worthy to step
up to an interstellar level of commerce. The concept of
"aliens" has matured in this film, from simple
benign or malignant humanoids (treating Earth as the retarded
child of the galaxy), to ambiguous "intelligences,"
regarding us as near-equals, in placing the ball in our
court.
This
maturity is due in great part to the inexhaustible efforts
of the late Dr. Sagan, whose quest to bestow a sense of
cerebral wonder in a generation jaded by laser-wielding
aliens and detestably non-scientific science fiction found
a culminating point in this movie.
With
aliens being so apparently existent, there comes the inevitable
contention of Religion vs. Science, and though Sagan clarifies
his position in the novel, the movie must necessarily leave
the issue ambiguous to appeal to its demographic of (real
or imagined) "christians" - the bulk of earth's
popcorn-plucking populace. The film ultimately preaches
to the converted on BOTH sides. No Atheist or Christian
will be jumping their razor-wire fences on the grounds of
this movie.
As
with all major-studio releases, the screen story tampers
with the novel's finer details, slotting it squarely within
motion picture dramatic parameters - most notably modifying
the overweight evangelist of the book, Palmer Joss, to that
of Hollywood man-toy, Mathew McConaughey, to give Ellie
that seemingly necessary love-interest. Thankfully, the
broad strokes retain enough of Sagan's driving pursuit of
knowledge, elevating it above mere whizbang alien-invasion
fare.
Yet
we do not lack for effects - stunning, thought-provoking
effects, rather than "be-still-my-pants" jaw-droppers.
The challenging opening sequence sees a camera panning backwards
through space away from earth, beyond the edge of the Milky
Way, outracing a jumble of radio static, which gets progressively
"older," the farther out we go (as indicated by
familiar tunes, news snippets and cultural signpost sounds
- i.e. the farther out in space you get, the farther back
in time you hear; in essence, time-traveling backwards -
faster than light, no less, if you are outpacing radio waves!).
Herein lies the foreshadowing of the whole plot. For those
unfamiliar with the physics concept that underlines this
sequence, the movie will make no sense.
The
visualization of The Machine (that The Message instructed
to build) was a marvel of utility and "alien"
design, seamlessly integrated into the landscape of Cape
Canaveral. Most impressive was the tragic sequence which
destroyed the first Machine - so artfully contrived, with
views from the scores of "media" cameras covering
the event - that the viewer never thinks to question where
the reality ends and the green-screen babble begins.
Though
technically not a "special effect," an astounding
camera trick with a running girl in a mirror will have you
scratching your head for weeks as to how it was concocted
- for directorial aficionados, this sequence alone
is worth the movie.
One
can only hope that viewers can delve through the flummery
(which must necessarily blossom during the latter stages
of the movie, as The Machine traverses worm-holes) to the
REAL message from Sagan: that the questioning and scientific
mind is infinitely more precious to our species and creates
more impetus for launching Mankind to the stars than the
stagnating minds of the pseudo-science shamsters, which
includes fanatical christian contingents.
One
of the best arguments against religionistas - played
out in the movie by the ever-psycho Jake Busey - is that
no scientist has yet strapped himself with explosives and
taken innocent lives in his quest to force an opinionated
Physics viewpoint on other people, whom he believes he will
"save" by blowing them up
The
incomparably-reliable David Morse is Ellie's encouraging
father, while William Fichtner poignantly plays a blind
astronomer colleague. A stoic Tom Skerritt is simultaneously
Ellie's supervisor and adversary, although thankfully is
not painted as villainous, even though cast as the obvious
antagonist; an intelligent rendering, keeping his interests
"scientific" rather than petty. Although he does
prevaricate to score his Machine seat, he is noble enough
to admit to Ellie, "I wish we lived in a world which
rewarded honesty like yours," to which Ellie replies,
"I thought the world is what we make of it."
Carl
Sagan died before production was completed on Contact,
making it one of his last gifts to a blinkered world. The
film's dedication read simply: "For Carl." I wept.
Without him, the Universe seems like an awful waste of space.
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