Review: Cloud Atlas
This review was originally published in a private discussion group as part of a film studies unit done during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.
There are innumerable things to dissect about Cloud Atlas, both thematically and cinematically, and the Wachowskis have been outspoken about how it’s very open to interpretation so I don’t think there are any invalid takes to be had.
If I had to boil my interpretation down to a concise thought (which is hard here), it’s that the point of the revolving plots are to illustrate how human life is spent in a constant push/pull between self-interest and selflessness; no matter how far back or how far into the future we go, it’s the nature of who we are. And as we see again and again throughout the film, whichever impulse we act on will affect our own life as much as the lives of those after us.
There are a bunch of threads to mention, but the first one that comes to mind starts with Ewig. He begins writing a journal on his journey to San Francisco and in the process decides to help a stowaway slave, Autua. That kindness is repaid when Autua saves Ewig from Dr. Goose, who is poisoning him. Ewig survives the trip, becomes an abolitionist, and has his journal published- which is eventually read by Frobisher and cited in his letters to Sixsmith, strengthening Sixsmith’s love for him. And while Frobisher commits suicide, Sixsmith continues to hold him dear for the rest of his life thanks to those letters, and remembers his unique comet birthmark when he sees it on Rey in the elevator later in his life. That brief moment helps him trust her, resulting in him handing over details that help bring light to environmental problems related to a nuclear power company.
Essentially, that moment on the ship where Ewig decides to help Autua causes a chain reaction of positive events for the next 120 years.
There’s also something to be said for the way that in some incarnations, the “soul” of an individual may be less than healthy, such as Tom Hanks’ Dermot chucking a critic off a balcony (which I can’t help but feel was some meta-catharsis for the Wachowskis). With the right circumstances and surroundings, though, a soul can overcome those self-interest instincts and act selflessly. Dermot is later incarnated as Zachry, who battles an inner-demon (Old Georgie) and isn’t keen on Prescients like Meronym (Halle Berry). But, after she shows his people kindness, he’s inclined to help her and overcomes Old Georgie to save both Meronym and his entire tribe.
Cloud Atlas is ultimately an optimistic film, and it could easily fall into some cringy cliché traps if its hopefulness is even a little overdone. But as playful and light as some of the moments in Cloud Atlas are (the Cavendish/One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest homage is so much fun), as melodramatic as some of the monologues are, there’s something honest and human about all of it. It doesn’t feel like an author trying to play to the audience’s expectations, it feels like it was created by people who earnestly believe that best in people will triumph while also acknowledging just how terrible we can be. I think that’s at the heart of why I enjoy the film, it feels very genuine because even though it focuses on love as a guiding force, it doesn’t gloss over cruelty or shy away from humanity’s inevitable self-destructive pattern (Seoul is sinking due to climate change, The Fall is clearly set after some global catastrophic event for humanity). To me, that sells the theme. And I know saying it feels genuine is somewhat ironic considering one of the main criticisms leveled at the film is that it’s pretentious, but I just don’t feel that at all (and I say that as someone who loves Terrance Malick, but totally understands why he often receives the same label).
Ultimately, I don’t think there’s a singular meaning to be found in Cloud Atlas. I think on the whole it’s a reflection on human nature, as nebulous and vague as that sounds. And maybe that’s what the title is getting at: A cloud atlas is a tool meteorologists used to define the formation of clouds, and in a sense that’s what the film does. It serves as a cloud atlas to humanity by presenting us as forms that can be defined only by stepping far enough back to see the full context of our existence, and how interconnected and layered we all are. “Our lives are not our own.”
A few other thoughts:
I think one or two less plot threads would have strengthened some of the thematic weight. That’s not to say it feels like a bloated film, even on this viewing I’m amazed at how fast it flies by, but I think the emotional impact suffers a little from how much is crammed into the film.
That said, I would rather films like this get made. Ones that are beautiful in production design/cinematography and creatively risky, with a few things that maybe don’t work, than films that are technically sufficient and creatively safe. I would watch a dozen films as ambitious and flawed as Cloud Atlas before enduring any more of a shared universe manufactured to make money for a glorified toy company.
I like the concept of the Post-Fall language being an evolved form of English, but it’s really challenging to execute modified language effectively. I think it works for the most part, but I do wonder if it would have been less distracting and more emotionally effective to do away with it or make it completely foreign and use subtitles. There are moments where Zachry says something weighty, but there’s an extra few seconds of processing that my brain has to do to get the meat of it.
“The meek are week and the strong do eat.”
This phrase gets repeated often by the negative forces in the film and it’s the same perversion of Darwinian thought that festers in how half this country looks at COVID-19. “Wear a mask if you choose, I don’t care” is essentially the same idea- I’m not going to be scared by a puny virus, I don’t care if I might spread it to you, all that matters is that I get what I want.”
“Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”
This serves as the counterpoint to the above phrase, and again, feels especially prescient right now. The only way we survive is to realize that we’re not on our own, we’re all in this together- the very act of wearing a mask is an acknowledgement of that idea, and as much as our country is a mess in this sense, I think it speaks to the Wachowski’s intuition about humanity that a great deal of the world appears to understand that right now.