Here’s a tip. If it is 2:45 AM and you are about to go to sleep, but a letterboxed Solaris is about to come on, stick with it. It is the perfect late night movie and it is short, so you’ll be in bed fairly soon. I don’t know what kind of crack I was smoking the first time I saw this. I gave it a B-. I suck. This is a minor work of genius. Let’s forget the look and sound and muted performances, all of which are brilliant, but the very subtle psychological twists and turns that are happening here are astounding. Just when you are ready to settle into the Star Trek-esque set up (Is she real? She’s not real.) the imaginary ghost becomes an existential imaginary ghost, so much so that the human has to hide reality from something that isn’t real — not to protect the ghost, but to protect himself from the pain of seeing a facsimile of her pain which caused her pain in the real world. Make sense? No, I sound like a babbling idiot, but heavy shit is all there, but none of it is in your face. The look may be 2001, but the content is more Last Tango in Paris. Oh, and the font during the closing credits (the only credits) nearly makes me wet myself. My contacts tell me this movie didn’t do too well outside of the cities. There was a handmade sign on the door of the multi-plex in New Jersey that read “We will not give refunds to Solaris!” Here’s what I wrote in 2003: 234) Solaris (2002), Steven Soderbergh, B-
How amazing is it that this experimental art film was, for one weekend at least, playing in every multiplex in America? There are long sequences of pure silent cinema, avant-garde editing, in-camera lighting, etc. Then there are just some long sequences. I find this version easier to swallow than the Tarkovsky version. Only watch this late at night.