Contact

You would not think frustration was a good thing to derive from a film, that gratification would be where "it" is "at" and that leaving one mildly peeved would be a major point of criticism. But I've spent all day trying to understand precisely why Contact left me less than satisfied and have come to the alarming conclusion that it has as much to do with myself as it has the content of the film.

You see, it's not really a film about aliens, but rather about faith. About how the divide between science and religion is artificial, that modernity and meaning do not necessarily need to be in conflict. While I wanted it to be about freaking aliens.

The momentum prior to the leap into the unknown is positively joyous, as fresh discoveries and victories lead to a single fascinating point, but it ends as an incredibly personal journey for Jodie Foster's character (who gave, incidentally, an excellent performance as the errant, obsessive astronomer). The "message" she brings back to earth is reliant upon faith, which for me felt like failure, a straightforward lack of resolution. I felt empathy for the science itself, that in that position I would need to be proven, personal faith would never be enough. I place little faith in it.

I was also distressed by the fact that there clearly was evidence: the crazy energy from the machine and the initial confirmation of Vega, which a satellite could never fake, not to mention the on board instrumentation. More testing was clearly required.

It was also a little heavy handed in places, despite surprising subtlety in others. There is the odd air of the pantomime villain about a few of the people she comes into conflict with, and I think such individual pettiness is too easily dismissed.

But nevertheless, I did spend all that time thinking about it and how I personally related to it was an important part of the experience. I consider these hallmarks of potent science fiction, indications of it's success, and which are far rarer than they should be. I was left feeling that the absence of a conclusion was the very point, that being neatly wrapped would have been at odds with it's discussion on belief, that my frustration was actively the intent. And I can't honestly say that that was a bad thing.