What would've been a four star film, instead devolves into a unexpected character reversal and placating of religious and secular viewer both ("We're not alone") in a misguided attempt to please everyone but should please no one.
For nearly its entirety (150m), Contact is a bold, engaging tale of interstellar messaging (Vega) with its protagonist, Dr Ellie Arroway (Foster), giving one of filmdom's great speeches in her passion plea for "just the slightest bit of vision" from would be sponsor, SR Hadden, a John Hurt performance that could've nabbed him an Oscar (1 nom: sound). But in the final ten minutes as Ellie testifies about her space trip, one that validated Mr Einstein (worm holes), in front of a hostile Senate beset with a collective amnesia, forgetting the 10,000 blueprints that enabled construction of her machine, our heroine completely unravels under what should've been easily handled, cynical questions, most from Sen James Woods who might've received an Oscar nom himself. It's an overdone show of emotion that conflicts with the strong willed, spirited stargazer we'd come to cheer. She'd "no evidence?" As if the Greys hand out souvenir key chains (oy). When your boyfriend (McConaughey), as cool a dude as he be, is your only booster, someone in the script department surely lost their writing compass.
I like a good love story. Contact has a good love story, but the theme (planetary coupling) is too big for producers to've projected in half measure. Zemeckis and Warner erred in what appears a cave to fears of a status quo backlash when they seriously deviated from Carl's novel by dumbing it down to implausibility (Senate snobs), maybe to intensify the love (Ellie Palm), most likely to placate inter-galactic isolationists, i.e., god fearing folk who worship for many reasons, though, "pursuit of truth" could hardly be called one of them, Joss (3.5/4).
For a film which projects better the hope that religion & science can, not only co-exist but work in harmony, watch Paramount's 1953 adaptation of HG Wells 1898 novel, The War of the Worlds (3.5/4). And while you're movie musing, find the early sci-fi title, Red Planet Mars (52) which may've been a basis for this 1997 feature. A curious opening contact with the Martian planet by a US science team is wasted when RPM devolves into ridiculous anti-Red, pro-religion propoganda. Peter Graves stars in what proves a continuation of his pain in the neck "Pricehoffer (Stalag17)," but the storyline similarities are many, topped by a "Sparks" reference late. Just product from a parallel pelicula universe? Perhaps.
For nearly its entirety (150m), Contact is a bold, engaging tale of interstellar messaging (Vega) with its protagonist, Dr Ellie Arroway (Foster), giving one of filmdom's great speeches in her passion plea for "just the slightest bit of vision" from would be sponsor, SR Hadden, a John Hurt performance that could've nabbed him an Oscar (1 nom: sound). But in the final ten minutes as Ellie testifies about her space trip, one that validated Mr Einstein (worm holes), in front of a hostile Senate beset with a collective amnesia, forgetting the 10,000 blueprints that enabled construction of her machine, our heroine completely unravels under what should've been easily handled, cynical questions, most from Sen James Woods who might've received an Oscar nom himself. It's an overdone show of emotion that conflicts with the strong willed, spirited stargazer we'd come to cheer. She'd "no evidence?" As if the Greys hand out souvenir key chains (oy). When your boyfriend (McConaughey), as cool a dude as he be, is your only booster, someone in the script department surely lost their writing compass.
I like a good love story. Contact has a good love story, but the theme (planetary coupling) is too big for producers to've projected in half measure. Zemeckis and Warner erred in what appears a cave to fears of a status quo backlash when they seriously deviated from Carl's novel by dumbing it down to implausibility (Senate snobs), maybe to intensify the love (Ellie Palm), most likely to placate inter-galactic isolationists, i.e., god fearing folk who worship for many reasons, though, "pursuit of truth" could hardly be called one of them, Joss (3.5/4).
For a film which projects better the hope that religion & science can, not only co-exist but work in harmony, watch Paramount's 1953 adaptation of HG Wells 1898 novel, The War of the Worlds (3.5/4). And while you're movie musing, find the early sci-fi title, Red Planet Mars (52) which may've been a basis for this 1997 feature. A curious opening contact with the Martian planet by a US science team is wasted when RPM devolves into ridiculous anti-Red, pro-religion propoganda. Peter Graves stars in what proves a continuation of his pain in the neck "Pricehoffer (Stalag17)," but the storyline similarities are many, topped by a "Sparks" reference late. Just product from a parallel pelicula universe? Perhaps.