Solaris, both Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1972 original and Steven Soderbergh’s 2002 re-make, is a film that truly tests the limits of motion picture as a medium.

In my judgment, the aesthetic G-forces created by pushing the envelope of the cinematic medium is more apparent in Tarkovsky’s original, which is in a way also a testimony to Soderbergh’s amazing directorial powers. But then, perhaps Soderbergh did not try to jam in as many “messages” as Tarkovsky tried to do.

Solaris is a lovely ruse that starts as a sci-fi flick and ends as a Dostoyevskian meditation on “the meaning of life.”

To the extent the issue is approached without “laying down the pipe,” or over-the-top exposition, the film engages our senses and massages all the dormant graycells.

But the minute Kris Kelvin starts to lecture about “grand themes,” the uncomfortable truth surfaces — moving images are great for thrillers, action flicks, for slapstick comedy, horror and drama. Yet when it comes to addressing philosophical issues, how far can the pure image go?

What’s the correct image or “motion picture” for “meaning”? Or for “redemption”?

That’s a challenge even Tarkovsky could not meet adequately, in my humble opinion.

Ideally, in an art work, every object should be able to stand on its own feet as its own signifier and should not need the crutches of lengthy explanations or “Western Union messages.” Otherwise it can slip quickly into pure propaganda.

Does Tarkovsky’s Solaris at the end slip into philosophical propaganda?

What happened in the end? Did Kris really left earth and traveled to the space station and then came back? Or perhaps he never left and all was a redemptive dream? Or he did make the trip but earth itself was reclaimed by the cosmic ocean?

There is a great sense of regret in Solaris, in both versions, and both directors conveyed that sense of tragedy very well.

Things that we could’ve done differently if only we had a second chance and if only we knew how

Something bleeds constantly at the heart of our daily existence, a certain feeling of dread perhaps anchored in regret, that renders brief moments of happiness all the more so precious.

That is conveyed very successfully both in 1972 and 2002 Solaris.

I like a movie to leave a few strands dangling out there to allow the audience read in their own constructions and thus reclaim the film as their own. But I like them just mysterious enough in the way, let’s say, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS ends.

The kind of churning enigma that ends Tarkovsky’s SOLARIS is a bit too much for comfort, especially if you happen to think movies not as philosophical dissertation theses but as “entertainment.”

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Ugur Akinci, Ph.D. is a Creative Copywriter, Editor, an experienced and award-winning Technical Communicator specializing in fundraising packages, direct sales copy, web content, press releases and hi-tech documentation.

He has worked as a Technical Writer for Fortune 100 companies for the last 7 years.

You can reach him at writer111@gmail.com for a FREE consultation on all your copywriting needs.

Please visit his official web site http://www.writer111.com for customer testimonials and more information on his multidisciplinary background and career.

The last book he has edited: http://www.lulu.com/content/263630

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GO TELL THE SPARTANS (1978) is a movie you shouldn’t worry about missing. It’s a Vietnam War movie that is totally outclassed by the worthy examples of the same genre like Apocalypse Now, Platoon or the Full Metal Jacket.

Why do people make trite and hackneyed movies like this, I’ll never now. And bona fide stars like Burt Lancaster probably get involved with such unforgettable flicks for one reason alone - they’re in a tight fix for some quick cash. Another reason does not come to mind easily.

Story in a nutshell:

An American Army advisory outfit in Vietnam headed by Major Barker (Burt Lancaster) is assigned a task for which it’s not ready: to go secure a Vietnamese village in the Vietcong territory.

The ragtag army of U.S. army misfits and their local south Vietnamese peasant contractors go and do exactly that, but not for too long. Eventually the superior and more disciplined Viet Cong forces inflict the same defeat on Barker’s forces that they’ve inflicted two decades age on the French.

The hard-shelled Barker is neither a hero nor a villain. He’s just a nobody. It is hard to identify with and root for a disillusioned aging Major who has no redeeming virtues except blurting out a lame “Shit!” every time the situation gets out of hand.

It is the tragicomic story of an ill-fitted army unit headed by an unhappy and cynical Major who was not promoted due to his unchecked alcohol and sexual habits.

The production values are a little better than the average high school stage play. A cheap movie with unlovable characters mouthing off hackneyed dialog and all roll towards an end that is as fresh as stale salami.

And of course the worst is the title itself. The epitaph “Go Tell the Spartans” that once decorated the tombstones of those Spartan soldiers who died while fighting the Persian armies at the battle of Marathon implies by association that we are facing the same kind of heroes here who have performed their duty well and with civic pride. The band of bumbling amateurs in this movie are anything but the Spartan warriors of the old.

Deserves barely a 2 out of 10.

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Ugur Akinci, Ph.D. is a Creative Copywriter, Editor, an experienced and award-winning Technical Communicator specializing in fundraising packages, direct sales copy, web content, press releases and hi-tech documentation.

He has worked as a Technical Writer for Fortune 100 companies for the last 7 years.

You can reach him at writer111@gmail.com for a FREE consultation on all your copywriting needs.

Please visit his official web site http://www.writer111.com for customer testimonials and more information on his multidisciplinary background and career.

The last book he has edited: http://www.lulu.com/content/263630

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Writing the block-buster movie usually means writing an action thriller. And the formula there is pretty set, and it really works.

Start with a truly monstrous VILLAIN, and not with the hero. Period. Without a villain-on-steroids, there is no catastrophe at hand that our hero needs to conquer.

That’s why the original DIE HARD (1988) was such a success. Not only because Bruce Willis played the HERO like a dream, but also because the villain HANS GRUBER (Alan Rickman) was a world-class psychopath with Einstein’s IQ. The chilling scene where Gruber meets McClane face to face and pretends he is one of the hostages is one of those classic moments that I’ll remember as long as I live.

This is the same reason DIE HARD 2 (1990) did not work that well in my judgment because its villain, COL. STUART (William Sadler) was a half-developed psycho.

That opening scene where we see Col. Stuart practice his kung-fu moves stark naked in a hotel room while watching the news on TV, is just perfect! We know we are faced with a force of nature that McClane will have one heck of a time subduing. We fasten our seatbelts. We are ready for the ride.

But later on, Col. Stuart devolves into just another mean spirited terrorist mastermind. He turns into a cartoon of himself and the soda pop fizzles out.

I’ll maintain that it is much harder to create an ORIGINAL VILLAIN than an original hero and that’s the key to most block-buster box office hits.

Consider Dr. Hannibal Lecter in the SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991).

Lecter keeps us guessing and scaring us down to the depth of our souls until the very last second of the movie.

We know we’ll never outsmart or outrun this monster and that’s what it makes the efforts of the FBI Agent Clarice Starling so fascinating. She is trying to achieve the impossible by setting her wits and heart against those of Lecter. Without Lecter’s cosmological evil, Starling’s character arc would not be as powerful.

Remember the “horse’s head” scene in GODFATHER? Without that kind of stark cruelty setting the background, would we feel as fascinated with this family saga?

As in the case of the top-rated HBO show the SOPRANOS, we are both attracted towards the characters in GODFATHER while feeling guilty for doing so, mostly because we are aware of the monumental cruelty and violence that this family is capable of.

Our own conflicted feelings are at the heart of the “dramatic conflict” and without a good villain our emotional experience would not be as substantial. And emotional experience is what sells tickets and buys that Malibu home for the writer who can create a monstrous villain out of the depth of her basically clean soul.

That’s the HARDEST aspect of writing a block-buster action thriller. There is a clear need to create an evil-incarnate maniac yet we writers on the whole are the good guys. We basically mean well towards all creation and most of the time hanker after sublime aesthetic experiences.

This is a problem that most inexperienced writer think they’ll circumvent by writing a GOOD HERO. Think again.

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Ugur Akinci, Ph.D. is a Creative Copywriter, Editor, an experienced and award-winning Technical Communicator specializing in fundraising packages, direct sales copy, web content, press releases and hi-tech documentation.

He has worked as a Technical Writer for Fortune 100 companies for the last 7 years.

You can reach him at writer111@gmail.com for a FREE consultation on all your copywriting needs.

Please visit his official web site http://www.writer111.com for customer testimonials and more information on his multidisciplinary background and career.

The last book he has edited: http://www.lulu.com/content/263630

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