| Any movie whose summary can be preceded by the phrase "in the not-so distant future" is usually a disappointment, simply because the new reality that filmmakers create feels false. Till now the grand exception has been the sepia-toned Delicatessen and City of Lost Children by the notorious duo of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Caro – in that case mixing whimsy with coal-black humour paid off perfectly. In the design department, Michael Winterbottom’s Code 46 certainly looks the part, but the story doesn’t live up to the environment.
In the not-so-distant future, cultural boundaries have all but evaporated while world travel has become highly regulated. Nobody can go anywhere without proper documentation, and a lucrative black market has sprung up for those who want a change of scenery. When William (Tim Robbins), an insurance investigator, is sent to find the source of several illegal "papelles," he meets the hypnotic counterfeiter Maria (Samantha Morton). They quickly fall for each other and William covers up her transgressions. But in this reality, where excessive cloning has turned the mating ritual into a government concern, William and Maria are doomed before they begin.
As a filmmaker, Winterbottom has a massive body of work, and while he has never committed to a single genre, his work inevitably bears a distinct stamp. From the working-class drama of Wonderland to the overly pensive The Claim to the pitch-perfect punk-rock genesis of 24 Hour Party People, Winterbottom and his crew have consistently pumped out some of the best looking European cinema of the last decade.
With Code 46 the future is both sleek and livable. Towers of steel grow out of the landscape and the inhabitants pepper their English with telling snippets of French, Italian and Japanese. The cinematography and especially the production design by Winterbottom staple Mark Tildesley are nearly flawless. Add to that a beautiful and understated score by The Free Association and the world of the film is fully realized.
It doesn’t hurt that Robbins and Morton not only look the part, but also prove that they are both often underused as actors. Robbins appears sparingly in films as a goof or a straight edge, and Morton is usually a wide-eyed simp who dominates the screen without uttering a word. Here, the two of them sell not only their environment but also their dialogue. Writer Frank Cottrell Boyce sneaks some very interesting concepts into Code 46 – from universal slang to helpful viruses – and Robbins and Morton deliver a few heavy mouthfuls of exposition without flinching.
When you wrap this all up with Winterbottom’s loose hand-held style, the film should easily be a home run. Sadly, the story simply doesn’t deliver on its premise. As William and Maria change gears from cat and mouse to lovers on the run, the film starts to break the rules it established in the opening frames. Surprisingly, even as the film becomes boring, it continues to introduce intriguing twists. Crossing geographic, political and sexual barriers Code 46 hints at elements of post apocalypse and then delivers one of the most disturbing love scenes ever committed to celluloid. But as the film ties up its loose ends (in a far too tidy fashion), it becomes even more unsatisfying.
Structurally and thematically reminiscent of Wim Wenders’s Until the End of the World, Code 46, sinks under its own ambitious weight. It’s rumoured that Wenders’s slightly futuristic techno-drama originally clocked in at six hours but was released as a two-hour feature. Code 46 doesn’t feel pre-emptively short, but given how much of the film works, I would be interested to see what would have happened to Maria and William if they were given more time to explore all the ideas presented. As it stands Code 46 may be proof that sci-fi doesn’t have to be glossy brainless hokum, but it doesn’t live up to its potential. |
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