Snowpiercer is one of the most visually stunning, violent, and at turns bizarre science fiction films of the past few years. It is rich with ideas, originality and intelligence, and as such, is the rarest of flowers in an otherwise desolate Hollywood landscape.
The premise of movie is not particularly logical: the world is in an ice-age through human over-reaction to climate change; the only survivors are those living on a nuclear-powered train. The train somehow manages to circle the earth exactly once a year on a spectacularly reliable set of tracks.
Okay, sure, but if you find yourself stressed about the credibility of the set-up, you’re missing the point. The point, as with all good science fiction, is to use a vision of future as a way of opening our eyes to the present.
Snowpiercer does this, and in spades.
Snowpiercer is the first English Language film of Bong Joon-ho, Korean director of ‘The Host.’ Bong co-wrote the screenplay with Kelly Masterson, based – very loosely – on the French graphic novel La Transperceneige.
The movie resonates with an Indi feel – in particular by borrowing from Korean cinematic styling. This is felt in particular through balletic ultra-violence; the dream-like sequences as the down-trodden protagonists pass through the carriages of the uber-wealthy; and through possibly the most bizarre New Year’s Eve countdown you’ll ever see on film.
Indeed, the New Year’s countdown is the point where the film turns from a gritty, dystopian, relatively straight forward story about class oppression into a weird, hallucinatory fable about the nihilistic limitations of the capitalist imagination.
There are some very smart casting choices. John Hurt as the moral and political leader of the proles (Gilliam) brings with him the echo of another great dystopian film, Nineteen Eighty-Four. Chris Evans as the reluctant revolutionary leader (Curtis), subverts viewer expectations of his other screen persona, the white knight Captain America, and makes us view him through a glass, darkly.
Tilda Swinton turns in a remarkable performance as Minister Mason, second-in-charge to the enigmatic train overlord Wilford. Swindon echoes the look and logic of Margaret Thatcher as she lectures the proles on knowing their place in the ‘eternal order.’ Finally, Song Kang-ho as the free-thinking, enigmatic drug-addicted former security specialist, is evocative – a remarkable feat given he only speaks Korean and large chunks of it remain untranslated for the audience.
Some aspects of the film have left many critics reaching for a (in my view, rather strange) comparison to Titanic. One of the more obtuse examples of this trite simplicity is this review at the Huffington Post (though presumably if you’re reading the Huffington Post, it is in the expectation of trite simplicities).
Yes, the carriages on the train, from back to front, are an allegory for class: the first-class, economy, and ‘freeloader’ carriages being a fairly obvious metaphor. As with the real world, the wealthy are blissfully unaware of the plight of the poor at the rear of the train.
But that’s where the comparison to Titanic ends. Seriously, you read a critic who tries to make this link, you need to do two things: 1) never read that reviewer again, and, 2) add them to your list of people who need an uppercut.
The film is not just simply about class oppression, but about how the poor collaborate with the ultra-wealthy to maintain the system.
The train represents both the genius and the limits of the capitalist imagination. It is a marvel of engineering, but it is a closed loop, and if it ever stops, it dies. Any political action is permissible, as long as it stays within the train, as long as the train keeps moving, and as long as the human beings inside are treated as expendable to the greater good of perpetual movement.
Within these constraints of a closed system, periodic violence and revolution are permitted, even encouraged.
In creating Snowpiercer, Bong Joon-ho put his trust in the intelligence of the audience. Unfortunately, the studio executives did not. Even though Snowpiercer broke box-office records in Korea on its release, it later opened to only 8 cinemas in the US. This was punishment for Bong after he refused to cut 20 minutes from the film and add explanatory voice overs to the beginning and end.
Thus, while nearly the entire box office for Snowpiercer has been from Korea, those willing to search out the movie will get the original, un-lobotomised version.
Snowpiercer is not perfect. The dialogue at times is weak (though some is excellent) and the confrontation between the ‘god’ of the train (Wilford) and Curtis falls a bit flat. Where the final exchange between oppressor and oppressed really needed to soar, and the justification of the ruling class – however twisted – cogently argued, it comes across as almost mundane.
But this is a small complaint.
Snowpiercer asks hard questions of the world we live in. It’s not simply about trying to overturn control of the ruling class, but about imagining an entirely different system altogether. The human mind has created a closed system of oppression – the question is this: are we willing to pay the high price of tearing this system down?
Snowpiercer is everything good science fiction should be: visually powerful, chock full of ideas, and thought-provoking.
Verdict: 4 stars (out of 5)
Bechtel test: Pass