Future tense

Film review: The Island

For much of Hollywood, the future is much like the present – it’s all screwed up. It seems each new discovery is able to make monsters out of all of us. We do not quibble about morality; function rules.

And like John Grisham novels, the viewer is admonished to be careful of who to trust.

In the footsteps of Gattaca, Minority Report and I Robot follows The Island.

Set in the middle of the 21st century, Lincoln Six-Echo (Ewan McGregor) wakes up to disturbing dreams. Cloistered in an antiseptic, extremely monitored and regulated facility, Lincoln is one among thousands of white-garbed people who have been told they are the lucky few to have been spared from a contaminated world.

From the restlessness of his slumber, to the chemical composition of his urine, to his choice of food, Lincoln lives out a highly-supervised existence. But unlike his largely unquestioning peers, Six-Echo’s curiosity leads him to a reality-shattering discovery – a thriving insect in the industrial underbelly of the sprawling facility. This throws a monkey wrench into the scenario painted for them – one of widespread animal and human extinction.

Meanwhile, life at the facility is defined largely by the prospects of leaving it for the Shangri-La of "the island" – supposedly the last uncontaminated spot on the planet. Trips to the island are raffled off and joyous "winners" leave – never to be heard from again.

Fate is a funny thing, especially in the hands of a scriptwriter. Wouldn’t you know it, the lottery’s next pick to pack her bags is Lincoln’s "best friend" (romance is unheard of in this utopia – sheesh) Jordan Two-Delta (Scarlett Johansson)? This happens just when Lincoln witnesses the elimination of one "winner" and the botched escape from the surgical saw by another (Michael Clarke Duncan).

The horrible truth is that the hapless populace of the facility is actually comprised of clones of people in the real world — to be harvested for body parts as a morbid insurance plan for the affluent. Behind the mantras of "you are unique," is the awful irony that each one here is but a copy. This "Soylent Green is made out of people." Revelation is unbeknown to the rest of the clones. Like grazing cows waiting for the slaughter, none is the wiser.

The action shifts into overdrive as Lincoln swoops into the ladies’ wing of the complex to save Jordan from her eventual date with the knife. They stumble into the world outside their charade – with hired guns in choppers pursuit. Enlisting the help of one of the facility’s workers (Steve Buscemi), Lincoln and Jordan set off for L.A. – to seek out their "sponsors" or original selves. A hired security specialist (Djimon Hounsou) and his team wreck not a few cars as mayhem reigns down on the freeway and business district.

Ewan McGregor has become the archetypal sci-fi good guy, having honed his chops on Star Wars. He is perfect as the paranoid Lincoln, and also as his quirky "sponsor." Scarlett Johansson, on the other hand, is the standard-issue heroine – pretty, smart, alert. The last quality, of course, comes in handy if one is on the run. This role is definitely a change from Johansson’s memorable stint in the much-awarded Lost In Translation, and is a move towards more mainstream Hollywood films, and is only one of two films she is set to appear in this year – the other being A Good Woman with Helen Hunt.

Steve Buscemi and Djimon Hounsou add a good deal of depth to the story in their supporting but very vital roles. Hounsou’s character, in particular, proves to be a catalyst in the last-minute events that shape the outcome of this action-thriller.

The futuristic take on sets within the facility finds utility over beauty. Subdued and somber colors give even more importance to the television screens that announce lottery winners and make important announcements. Juxtaposed with this sterile world is the "back room" in perpetual twilight and disarray where the disheveled, squirrel-y character of Steve Buscemi takes center stage. The irony is apparent: the clean as fake, the dirty as real. The birthing of clones is also a sight to behold, a la Minority Report.

Director Michael Bay (with producer/partner Jerry Bruckheimer) isn’t just about to be forgiven for the perceived debacles in Pearl Harbor, The Rock and Armageddon – which were renowned for bombast and not much else. But The Island may be a step in the right direction. Granted there are mountains of totaled trucks and cars (not to mention a savaged building), but beneath the carnage is a sometimes funny, sometimes poignant tale of deception and moral qualms. The Island, after all, posits a believable (if, for now, unlikely) future.