The self-proclaimed King of the World is making his way back to mainstream cinema. After over a decade working as a documentarian on subjects ranging from the Titanic to the tomb of Jesus, Cameron is set to return later this year with Avatar, a film whose technically and physically demanding shoot has been the subject of huge amounts of speculation. The film is said to be technically, extraordinary, rewriting the cinematic grammar of science fiction in much the same way Cameron has done twice before, with Aliens and The Terminator movies.
However with its demanding shoot and cutting edge filming techniques, Avatar seems closer to The Abyss, a Cameron movie that’s been largely overlooked. Which is a surprise as the simple act of shooting The Abyss was a Herculean undertaking, involving re-fitting a half-constructed nuclear power station to become a huge water tank. The cast and crew were under water for hours at a time and frequently had to spend up to twelve hours in decompression chambers, and the shoot was so difficult that Ed Harris refused to talk about it for years after filming. Acknowledging this, on completion, the cast and crew were all given t-shirts bearing the caption:
LIFE’S ABYSS AND THEN WE DIVE.
But despite, or perhaps because of this pressure, it’s the Cameron movie I keep coming back to. I’d even argue it’s his best and certainly his most personal work. Cameron’s background as a special effects technician has shown throughout his career and there are few directors better at shifting the focus of action from epic scale to individual people and back again, especially here. He’s as comfortable with quiet, personal character moments as he is with massive set pieces and the skill with which the two are nested within one another here is never less than impressive.
The crane crash sequence is particularly impressive as Cameron throws the focus around at tremendous speed but with absolute discipline. We follow the Benthic Explorer, the Deepcore II’s support ship as it battles high seas and loses the crane carrying the Deepcore’s umbilical. The action then cuts to the seabed as the crew frantically try and unbuckle the cable as the crane crashes down on them, fail, are dragged over the lip of the Marianas Trench and come to rest, only to be forced to battle hull leaks and fires at multiple locations. It’s an almost balletic sequence, each section building on the last and each driving home how fragile, how alone the Deepcore II crew are and how, in a second, the crew’s safe environment can become a roiling, chaotic death trap. The fact that the Deepcore II looks and feels utterly convincing only helps ramp up the tension. This rig is these people’s home and it‘s critically damaged almost before the film is halfway through.
But for all the undoubted technical skill on display here, it’s Cameron the scriptwriter who most impresses. The Abyss is a Russian doll of plots, each presenting a canvas for the other plot lines to play out across and each successively tighter in focus.
The largest sees Cameron borrow a trick from 2010, and use a fictionalized version of the Cuban Missile Crisis as both the catalyst for the story and a means of providing it with extra historical weight. The accidental crash of a US nuclear submarine not only brings the Deepcore II crew into the incident but also brings the Cold War into the spotlight. By doing this, Cameron establishes an instant intellectual connection with the Cuban Missile Crisis and its potential consequences, in turn raising the dramatic and emotional stakes of what is, superficially, a summer blockbuster filled with empty spectacle.
The next story down from that addresses the empty spectacle head on, as Cameron builds an action movie that is arguably larger and more completely realized than any of his other work. The crane sequence mentioned above, the bruising submarine chase and Bud’s final dive into the abyss are just three of the major action beats in a film that rarely pauses for breath. Cameron has a rare fondness for practical effects work and the ease with which the film not only shifts scale but type of effect is never less than impressive. The arrival at the USS Montana is a particular standout, the chunky, tough ‘pick up truck’ submarines of the Deepcore II crew dwarfed by the immense scale of the downed submarine.
The summer ‘tent pole’ movie in turn provides a unique spin to the science fiction plot. Cameron is on record as saying that he wanted a very realistic, grounded approach to the fantastic in The Abyss and that’s exactly what is delivered. The blue collar main characters, Bud in particular, bring a welcome cynicism to events and their realistic approach puts a different perspective on what is at heart nothing more than a first contact story and a relatively conventional one at that.
Until the water tentacle sequence, where everything changes. As the aliens explore the rig and make contact with the crew, the accepted wisdom of special effects technology is shattered. Cameron’s use of CGI, the first in a major film, is elegant and effective even today, using the relatively simple shapes and textures of the tentacle to side step technical problems. It also fits, perfectly, with the rest of the film, a seamless integration of the unreal with the real, the alien with the mundane. The process of evolution, the changes that would lead through Independence Day to films like The Matrix and Donnie Darko and revolutionize SF cinema, starts here. The water tentacle isn’t just an alien artefact; it’s the shape of things to come, a moment of 21st century cinema arriving a little early.
It also provides the backdrop to the final, central plot. Cameron, for all his fascination with scale and technology, is passionately concerned with people and never more so than here. The Abyss is a literal and psychological presence in the film, each character faced with the realization that they have stepped beyond the bounds of safety and human knowledge, and that they are staring at the unknown. How they react to that knowledge is what drives the central conflicts of the film, and does so in a remarkably even handed way.
For Lindsey, the abyss is an open door, with the promise of boundless knowledge beyond it. For Bud, it’s a problem at best and a threat at worst and for both of them, it’s a reminder that what they need most is not knowledge, or freedom, but each other. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio are on stunning form here and they have a quiet, unforced chemistry that is completely believable. Whether it’s Lindsey telling a sleeping Bud to turn over and him obeying or the pair frantically brainstorming ways to save a freezing Lindsey’s life their relationship is realistic, plausible and frequently very moving. They’re not perfect and they’re not heroes, they’re just the people who happened to be there, doing their best.
The rest of the cast are as naturalistic and impressive but the other stand out is Michael Biehn as Lt. Coffey. Biehn is a Cameron alumnus and, in a kinder world, would have been catapulted to mainstream success in Cameron’s abandoned Spiderman movie. Here, he plays Bud’s alter ego, a man as concerned with his job and his crew as Bud but lacking the human anchor Lindsey provides. Coffey is a genuinely good man, the script takes great pains to point that out but for him, the abyss is where the monsters live and he finds himself unable to move beyond that belief or, in the end, the abyss itself. Coffey is a tragic figure first and a villain second, the final casualty before the dawn of the new world waiting at the bottom of the old.
The Abyss is immensely ambitious and meticulously constructed, the four plots harnessed together to create an incredibly powerful piece of drama. Its ambition outreaches its grasp in several places, most notably some of the final effects, but the film succeeds far more than it fails and fails bravely when it does. It’s a film both powered by and about change and change for the better, a fiercely optimistic story that’s been unfairly overshadowed by its stable mates. It’s Cameron’s best work and if Avatar is half as successful, then we’re in for something very, very special.
A question of Ethics for Enthusiasts.
Published June 9, 2009 Commentary 3 Comments