Cloud Atlas (2012)

The Wachowskis have not done a great job of sustaining their directorial popularity in the wake of The Matrix, with V for Vendetta being their one other major hit as writers and producers. This may explain why they decided to try something different, adapting a David Mitchell bestseller into one of the most expensive indies yet, sharing credit with German cult director Tom Twyker (Run Lola Run).

Specifically, we get six alternating subplots across different settings and even genres. In 1849, an American aristocrat visiting a Pacific island contends with illness, envy of his wealth, and a burgeoning sympathy toward slaves. In 1936, an aspiring British composer works on "The Cloud Atlas Sextet," but his history of gay sex limits his options for exposure. In 1973, an investigative journalist follows a murder trail toward a horrible San Francisco corporate conspiracy. In the present, an elderly British publisher learns the ups and downs of working with a thuggish author, followed by the untrustworthiness of his own brother. In 2144, South Korea has been manufacturing female clones for servitude, and one with the telltale serial number 451 rebels. In 2321, an unspecified disaster has led to Hawaii being divided into primitive tribes and a handful of elite technocrats, and one of the latter needs assistance from the former.

What draws these subplots together? Lots of little things: a recurring birthmark on focal characters, parallel moments in their lives, actual references to the past. Oh, and more than a dozen actors play multiple roles, among them Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Jim Broadbent, Hugh Grant, Susan Sarandon, and Wachowski staple Hugo Weaving, hinting at reincarnations. If there's a single overarching theme to the whole thing, it's championing resistance against tyranny -- which, come to think of it, describes the other Wachowski movies I know.

Artistically, it is soon intriguing to see the continuing interplay of the subplots, even if you never make complete sense of the gestalt. You can easily tell them apart at a glance, but it still invites you to stay alert. While the style seems like a compromise between Christopher Nolan and Quentin Tarantino (it's more R-rated than The Matrix for reasons other than violence), I can hardly think of any other film to compare it to except maybe Magnolia. It reminds me more of a few avant-garde plays, only with a big budget.

Unfortunately, the more non-converging subplots a program has, the smaller the average percentage of time each subplot gets. This doesn't always bother me, but in order to tell as much as they wanted, the directors stretched to nearly three hours. I felt almost ready to quit before it was half over. You may think that the frequent focal switches would sustain my interest, but they seem to have made me care less about what was happening. Eventually, I divided my attention on the computer, even during the inevitable action sequences. I didn't miss much, because it was getting predictable.

OK, maybe the real problems lie in the subplots individually. It's hard to tell how seriously these directors want to be taken when so many characters, especially villains in every age, border on cartoonish. Only a handful of moments are obviously comedic. I especially wonder about casting Weaving as an androgynous Nurse Ratched type: Considering that Larry Wachowski had become Lana and Andy would later become Lilly, I doubt they wanted people to laugh at his dowdiness. FWIW, the endings range from rather happy to bittersweet. I think I like the '73 subplot best.

As the medium goes, it's pretty good about representing women and non-White races...until you get to post-apocalyptic Hawaii, whose noncannibal population looks awfully nonnative. Viewers who don't immediately determine that it's the future and not the distant past with a few time travelers may well take it as unfair whitewashing. At any rate, I don't care much for those segments simply because the characters speak a made-up dialect that requires careful listening and a lot of tolerance for what sounds like dopey slang ("the true-true," really?).

I give Cloud Atlas a lot of credit for being unusual. People could discuss it for hours if they so desired, as evidenced by my relatively long post. The question is, would they? The adaptation can't help being divisive. Perhaps they'd do better to read the book and discuss that. For my part, I'm glad I watched (there aren't many Hanks films I don't want to watch), but I would have preferred a more capable handling of the elements.