[img]1873|right|||no_popup[/img]Like Lucifer, only without the theological trappings of sin, Joseph Kosinski set out to bring some light into the normally dimly-lit visions of Hollywood science fiction. It’s a logical step. His work on Tron: Legacy was entirely rooted in the play of light on dark in an agile, design-driven cinematography of contrast. Rebutting Ridley Scott’s pitch-grime Prometheus (or, as he points out in an interview with the L.A. Times, the original Alien film), Kosinski engages the opportunity for brightly imagined vistas, whose appeal James Cameron reignited with Avatar, all the while delivering high-concept science fiction inspired by the character-driven films he grew up with in the seventies. The result makes stunning use of natural landscapes (Ireland is a star) and design spanning architectural and industrial concepts – without blurring the wistful character study’s focal point as typically happens in more technology-obsessed blockbusters. From the beautiful bubble ship design – a practical and not virtual object – to the tower habitats that loom far above the earth’s surface, to the sweeping landscapes of a planet haunted by the memory of civilization, the clarity and brightness of Kosinski’s work marks him as a visionary.
As far as premises go, Oblivion – based on Kosinski’s own unpublished graphic novel – is a gumbo swirling around the idea of a future earth left abandoned in the aftermath of a war against alien invaders. Here is the question: Trope or homage? Some might, understandably, see in the film a derivative work with a narrative that is often more familiar than novel. An identical, albeit sharper and overzealous, accusation of wholesale hodge-podge appropriation was leveled against Equilibrium, Kurt Wimmer’s best film and script to date. Wimmer might have borrowed from Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and 1984, but he delivered a cohesively realized film pulsing with style and the ambition to offer more than eye candy. In crafting a whole that perhaps didn’t transcend the part but at least peeked over the top, he succeeded in keeping the stitching invisible while contributing a few iconic ideas into the lexicon of science-fiction action films. The result is not plagiarism but quotation. In a similar vein, on a grander scale, Kosinski forges out of Oblivion a work that carries on its shoulder the proud heritage of science fiction movies, a heritage otherwise confined to the fringe or watered down because Hollywood is afraid of foisting speculative and intelligent science on its audiences. Hence, the visual references to iconic imagery from sources as diverse as Star Wars and Predator rank not as gimmicky fan service or carbon-copying, but as indications of Kosinski’s genuine affection for science fiction. By comparison, Avatar also borrowed heavily from diverse sources, but where Oblivion’s restraint gives room for the narrative to stand on its own, Cameron’s epic expended so much energy in its world-building that the condescending colonialist plot, however noble for its ecologic message, became all the more transparent about its clichés.
Oblivion takes it cues from a patient era when a film could provide audiences with the time to immerse themselves in its cinematic world. Peter Jackson exemplified this recently with the absorbing first part of The Hobbit. Kosinski demonstrates it by pacing Oblivion in a way that we can appreciate the desolate beauty of abandoned earth, the elegance of the production design and, crucially, the fragile emotional existence of a drone repair technician hoping to rejoin the rest of humanity with his partner only to be tormented by memories he shouldn’t have. The film is unhurried, which is not to say slow, in presenting us with the grim situation on earth, the dangerous nature of a technician’s work, the consequences of living on a dead planet. Alas, the characterizations seem to suffer from the expansive attention lavished on the film’s setting. Apart from Tom Cruise’s protagonist, Jack Harper, the film’s few other human characters get by on the strength of performances by Olga Kurylenko, Morgan Freeman, and (especially) Andrea Riseborough more so than the strength of the script. Cruise is, at least, in finer form as the film’s anchor than he has been in the recent Mission: Impossible films, embodying the stalwart persona of a man determined to discover the truth.
Insofar as Kosinski revives the classical approach to science-fiction stories, he succeeds where films like poorly scripted Prometheus and overwrought Avatar fail. The film falters, however, when it gives way to Hollywood’s need to preserve mainstream accessibility, most notably in a conclusion that misses the opportunity to touch on the genuinely alien just as it draws beautifully on the sense of human smallness that infused films like 2001 and Star Trek: The Motion Picture. That’s no Moon, in other words, but just as that film launched Duncan Jones into the orbit of great science fiction filmmakers and, to a lesser extent, Neil Blomkamp earned himself credibility with District 9, Oblivion makes up for its shortcomings by demonstrating Kosinski’s ascension to a rare role: Champion for science fiction. Oblivion earns modestly strong laurels on its own merits, but is more than enough to anticipate Kosinski’s next project, a justifiable remake of Disney’s grandly quixotic The Black Hole, with optimism.
Frédérik Sisa is the Page's assistant editor and resident arts, entertainment, and culture critic. He can be reached at fsisa@thefrontpageonline.com or via his blog, Ink & Ashes.
