“Don’t take my project. This is MY project!”
Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary claims that the film “has enormous gaps” but, for the most part, I disagree. I’m impressed by how screenwriters Bruce Joel Rubin and Robert Stitzel smartly explore the various ethical ramifications of a virtual reality device which we have yet to experience, but whose arrival surely can’t be that far away. The device’s potential for “good” is made abundantly clear throughout the first half hour of the film: in addition to the obvious money-making application of allowing people to experience a world of visceral thrills (roller coaster rides, sweeping views of majestic mountains) without ever leaving their chairs, it miraculously helps bring Walken and his estranged wife (Wood) back together by allowing them to relive the glory days of their early romance. The U.S. military, of course, has much more nefarious plans for the headset (torture, anyone?), but the screenwriters draw an appropriately sticky line between these two extremes, as demonstrated in the scene in which a naive employee (Joe Dorsey) decides to splice a strategic section of a sex tape and run it continuously, only to become mildly brain damaged as a result.
The most exciting sequence in the movie is undoubtedly Fletcher’s dramatic heart attack, which — scientist that she is until the very end — she struggles to record so that others can study the experience of dying. It’s the natural extension of this crucial plot element (in which Walken “plays” the tape and sees visions of heaven and hell) which most reviewers take issue with — and it’s certainly easy to agree that the cheesy special effects don’t “do justice” to the experience. Yet I would counter, what could? How can any of us “know” what this ultimate experience might look and feel like — and then transfer this effectively to a two-dimensional screen?
Where the film does begin to lose steam for me, ironically, is during its final climactic half-hour, as Walken and Wood valiantly fight against the Powers That Be to rescue the tape and destroy the military’s mass-operations facility. While it’s somewhat amusing to hear the couple voicing banalities to each other over the phone as a cover-up (it works — nobody pays them any attention), the action sequences — including machines going haywire and suds spilling out across the floor — come across as both juvenile and out-of-place. Despite this flaw, however, Brainstorm remains undeniably provocative sci-fi viewing, and should be seen once by all film fanatics.
Note: Trumbull only helmed one other film — 1972’s equally flawed but engaging Silent Running.
Redeeming Qualities and Moments: