Review of Solaris

“Hey, anybody know where I could see George Clooney’s naked ass from his post-ER, pre-asshole days?” And that’s how Solaris got onto my Netflix queue.

OK, my love for space coupled with an appreciation for Stevie Soderbrgh led me to this. A therapist is deployed to a space station outside the planet Solaris to help the crew, who seem to be going crazy. But will it drive the therapist crazy? That depends on whether or not you consider manifesting your dead wife, killing her, and manifesting her again as crazy.

A lot of people seem to think this movie is intelligent and “asks a lot of questions” about stuff. Maybe these are people who mistook this one for the 70s version of this, or at least remember enough about that version to fill in the holes I didn’t have to mortar to myself. I found it interesting, but not really all that thought-provoking as the rest of the review-writing public. I’m not sure what questions it really raises. What are memories? Who created us? These questions are much more effectively posed in The Nines. I was more distracted trying to figure out how a space station parked outside another planet would cause a manifestation of another loved one. But only one person. Seems silly.

I feel like I need to watch this movie again to really get it all. Only I don’t really feel like I like it enough to do that. Hmm. We’ve reached an impasse. 5 bugs (out of 10).

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