Directed by Lana Wachowski, Andy Wachowski, Tom Tykwer. Starring Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Jim Broadbent, Hugo Weaving, Jim Sturgess, Doona Bae, Ben Whishaw, James D’Arcy, Zhou Xun, Keith David, David Gyasi, Susan Sarandon, Hugh Grant 15A cert, general release, 171 min
For all its flaws, this gonzo epic is worth seeing for sheer chutzpah alone, writes Tara Brady
From the makers of Speed Racer and the Matrix movies comes this maddening, ambitious, daft, daring and wholly erratic adaptation of David Mitchell’s hit novel. Tom Tykwer, the German director of Run, Lola, Run and Perfume, adds to the uneven audaciousness.
Cloud Atlas, a light postmodern novel comprising six nested stories, was never going to be an easy translation. The film, like the book, takes in 19th-century colonialism in the south Pacific; a star-crossed gay romance in the 1930s; a 1970s conspiracy thriller; contemporary British confinement in a nursing home; the awful fate awaiting cloned workers in a dystopian future Korea; and a backward post-apocalyptic mongrel race living in Hawaii.
Phew. Just to add to the discombobulating narrative, each actor plays multiple roles. You might want to keep a notebook handy.
Inevitably, some parts work and others most definitely do not. The vast Korean cityscapes seem awfully familiar and make you think: “The 1990s called – they want their CGI back.” Throughout, technical qualities – cinematography, sound, editing – waver between spectacular and humdrum.
Many of the British scenes are outright howlers. Irish viewers may have cause to be annoyed with representation that makes the Hardy Bucks look like Dorothy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table. Scottish viewers most definitely have cause for grievance. The entire English retirement home section is both cloth-eared and cloth-eyed to British manners and customs. An opening gambit depicting literary awards (based on the Orange Prize) makes one think of a Las Vegas magician convention. Huh?
Cloud Atlas, in common with its mythological namesake, is obliged to shoulder a great deal of material. Its subsequent truncations can be confusing. One Jim Broadbent character is virtually indistinguishable from another as the actor has little time to convey anything beyond twinkling Broadbentian charm.
A better adaptation would have found cinematic tropes to correspond to the novel’s playful literary ones. A subplot that sees Halle Berry take on a Three Mile Island ersatz is begging for a blaxploitation treatment that never comes.
Still, you can’t fault the actors. Tom Hanks, despite his moments of fighting Oirishness, is the most infectious fun he’s been since Toy Story 2. Hugo Weaving is wonderful. The screenplay, too, for all its flaws, is a remarkable achievement.
The finished product is no Matrix (well, unless we’re taking the third part), but it’s certainly worth a look – even if you do find yourself throwing popcorn at the screen from time to time.
