Silent Running

Some minor spoilers ...


Watched an old SF movie yesterday called Silent Running (1972). Some would consider it a mild classic. You'll read about it in just about any book documenting the history of science fiction in film. I've read pages and pages about it over the years. But I've never seen it on television or cable for some reason or another. So, last weekend, at the library with my Little One, I found it on the DVD racks, emitted a thoughtful "Hmmmm," and decided to borrow it.

Actually, I'm kinda torn about it. But first, yes, it is a "classic" in the sense that it was the (warning: entering dangerous cliche zone) school of hard knocks, the trial by fire, of Douglas Trumbull and John Dykstra, two dudes who would go on later and both dominate and revolutionize science fiction special effects for the rest of decade. The spaceship models, some up to twenty feet long and constructed from dozens of children's model kits, are the forerunners for Star Wars, Close Encounters, Battlestar Gallactica, and just about every SF movie up to the age of CGI. Making their first appearance are "drones," mobile robots actually helmed by amputee actors that are the direct predecessors of R2D2 and C3PO. There's a scene where the ship hurtles through the rings of Saturn that supposedly was intended to be the "in through the doorway" scene from Kubrik's 2001, but was scrapped due to budgetary and technological reasons.

So, yeah, from an effects point-of-view, Silent Running is a classic in the sense that it originated so many motifs that would become standard in SF movies throughout the 70s and years later.
It's the story and the acting that I'm torn over.

Silent Running is generally regarded as the first environmental movie. Red flags right there. Now, I'm all for nature and I love the mountains as much as my wife loves the beach. We don't litter, we reasonably recycle, we care for baby deer (just kidding on that last point). But I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that the environmental movement has traditionally been, well, filled with perhaps more than it's bell-curve share of nuts. This movie kinda brought that observation home to me, to the point where I was a little embarrassed, and glad I didn't foist this mess on any innocent victims like my wife. Who'd never, ever let me live it down.

Bruce Dern plays Lowell, an unhinged ecologist aboard a space cruiser which holds the last remaining forests of a dying and polluted Earth. I don't know much about Mr. Dern, but I seem to recall he specialized in these loony roles. Not ordinary men of various makes and models who go batty, but dudes that are already psycho and are just barely holding it together. I remember he played a psychotic ex-Vietnam vet (does Hollywood recognize any other type?) who plots an act of terrorism at the Super Bowl in that movie Black Sunday. Anyway, the ship is ordered to eject their forest domes, blow 'em up, and return to Earth for commercial reasons (Oh no, damn heartless capitalism!). Lowell forgets entirely about his borderline sanity and decides to murder his three co-workers and embark on a desperate mission to save the forest.

Needless to say, the movie ends on a fairly expected down note, but the forest is saved.

A couple of songs by Joan Baez over a montage of Bruce tending plants and feeding bunnies were quite excruciating.

However, I thought his interaction with the three drones to be touching. Alone in the dark expanse of space, guilt gnawing at his conscience, fear building as it appears the plants and trees are inexplicably dying, Lowell humanizes the little robots, christening them Huey, Duey, and Louie. There were two unexpected emotional scenes. Louie "dies" outside the ship and the surviving two drones bring out Lowell and show him the poor 'droid's remains: a torn leg stuck in a nook in the hull. And later, Lowell, on his motorized wagon, accidentally rams into Huey, and cripples the little mechanical guy. Because of its injuries, Huey has to share Lowell's fate at the end of the film, and the two actually seem to be comforting each other.

I give the film a C. I probably would've liked it better on the nostalgia bump if I had seen it as a kid. If you're into SF, see it and try not to let the hippy angst get in the way of appreciating the technical effects. Otherwise, skip it.

NOTE: Tried to add a couple of illustrative pics of the movie but for some blogging glitch (and not a problem between the chair and keyboard) was unable to do so. Will try later this afternoon.