Cloud Atlas
The Wachowskis and Tom Tykwer tackle one of the world's most thrillingly unfilmable books.
Overview
Why are we so quick to dub certain books 'unfilmable'? After dozens of so-called-unfilmable film adaptations, maybe it's time to stop doubting the ability of screenwriters and directors to translate written expression to visual. Sometimes these unfilmable films are among the most exciting cinematic adventures of all, having to be inventive in a way that defies our expectations.
Among unfilmable books, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell surely takes the cake, so let's resolve to be excited rather than plain old dubious that mind-fuck virtuosos the Wachowskis (The Matrix trilogy, V for Vendetta) and Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run) are tackling it. The novel is set across time, from the Colonial Pacific to a circularly primitive future, and follows the exploits of several people who have basically nothing to do with each other. It's always told in the language and point of view of the character currently in focus — among them, an intrepid reporter, a precocious composer, and a woman genetically engineered for a life in hospitality — and constantly undermines conventional narrative structure by ripping us out of a story just when it's picking up pace. It's also a completely intoxicating read that was nominated for the 2004 Booker Prize.
Tykwer and the Wachowskis are clearly aiming for greatness here, but they don't make it, and that leaves the unorthodox film open to savagery from many angles, far more than it deserves. Even at three hours, it's not a difficult watch, as the thickly intercut stories are individually intriguing and easy to distinguish. The editing involved in Cloud Atlas is a real marvel, actually. I'm picturing some obsessive Gollum (actually Alexander Berner) emerging from the editing suite with scurvy and a hunchback after months of toil. It's this intricate editing that subtly pulls the film along, so that the appearance of an actor in one time cuts to their transformed face in another and the mention of a door will in the next vignette open a gate.
One of the best elements of the film is how it turns the 'actor playing multiple roles' trope from a novelty into an art. Although the message of the book and film is ambiguous, the idea of recurrence and of us having traceable connections to distant times is a major theme. The filmmakers are able to give vivid expression to that idea by having actors take on several characters, often across gender and race. Some critics have accused the film of racism for its use of yellow-face, but to do so seems sensationalist when you see how much thought, awareness, and purpose has gone into the portrayal of race. It's basically the point of the movie.
On top of that, the prosthetics are awe-inspiring, and it's worth watching the credits just to see which unrecognisable appearances from Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Hugo Weaving, Susan Sarandon, Jim Broadbent, Ben Whishaw, Doona Bae, Hugh Grant, Keith David, Xun Zhou, and others passed you by. Some of the other mise en scene, however, is surprisingly forgettable given the filmmakers; one of their futures looks pretty much like Bladerunner. The other big problem for the film is that, as it builds to its breathless, hypercutting crescendo, it looks a bit like cloying Western mysticism, if not all-out schmaltz. Resist falling into this vortex and you might enjoy the personal reading you take out of Cloud Atlas's ambiguous melting pot.
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