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THX 1138: | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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HX 1138 (Duvall) is, like the rest of the inhabitants of his futuristic, antiseptic society, a cog in a great big machine of productivity and consumption. His days are filled with routine behavior, mandated by a daily ingestion of mind-numbing drugs, and his only seeming respite from this homogeneous society is his daily repentance to its television-monitor god and the images of sex and violence that occupy the channels of entertainment. Lately, however, THX just hasn't been feeling like himself.
As he quickly discovers, THX's normal regimen of medication has been altered by his roommate, LUH 3417 (McOmie), whose own emotional stability is suspect. When they engage in a brief, passionate affair (which is naturally monitored by ubiquitous, Big Brother-style cameras), their modest venture toward romance is immediately halted and the pair are separated permanently. THX is soon placed in a correctional facility for his inappropriate display of emotion, and he seems destined to live out his days as a prisoner of the state.
Before long, however, THX's restlessness gets the best of him, and he strikes out with an acquaintance from his former life—an adept computer hacker named SEN 5241 (Pleasence)—to escape his seemingly boundless prison. Encountering SRT (Colley), a hologram who crossed over into the human world, THX and SEN soon escape, only to find that the outside world offers no more comfort than did their "cell." As they make the arduous trek toward self-awareness—in each case differently physical and emotional than those of their companions—the sterile and safe world of their former existences begins to crumble, and they realize that their newfound freedom may ultimately come at the expense of their security, their sanity and, perhaps, even their lives.
A low-profile masterpiece
It's easy to see why Lucas' first feature is often overlooked by science-fiction fans, especially in the context of the immortal, populist franchise he later went on to create; THX 1138 follows a more Kubrickian line of scientific speculation (that is, more fact than fiction) and exists in a hermetically sealed world that the Star Wars films wouldn't touch for fear of leaving dirty fingerprints. At the same time, its relatively low regard is a disappointment to the few remaining fans of Lucas' work who remember when his vision was more strongly creative than commercial, and serves as a powerful reminder of a time when the filmmaker was interested in creating new worlds rather than slapping them on lunch boxes and selling them at $19.99 a pop.
Because most of the film's audience has previously seen its original version only on dingy VHS copies pilfered from libraries and secondhand video stores since its initial release in 1970, the new "director's cut" makes for a dynamic revision and re-imagining that should quell criticisms that the filmmaker has completely gone off his rocker with changes, updates and so-called "improvements," even if a few of those he includes here are plain unnecessary. Rather, he expands this world in welcome quantities, often without the viewer being any the wiser, and genuinely creates a universe for his characters to explore (the old film's forced-perspective shots always felt a little bit like he was trying to keep potential gaffes just out of frame). Even though changes implemented to the film's performances (such as Duvall's CGI-designed mind-lock) should feel like a violation not only of the original text but of the actors' authorship of their roles, Lucas employs them to such dexterous effect that we can only admire his effort that much more.
With the exception of a CG re-imagining of the third-act shell-dweller attack (they are now bushy primates instead of coiffured "little people"), the rest of the additions are negligible distractions, and for the most part ease transitions that were once particularly abrupt and often incomprehensible (though Lucas served as his own editor the first time around, leaving one wondering why he didn't fix them before now). Even purists should have little to quibble about with his new version of THX 1138; thankfully, his changes have all been made for the (actual) better of the film.
THX 1138, thankfully enough, additionally benefits from its relative obscurity and the significant time lapse—nigh 35 years—since it's been shown in proper form. Lucas' first film is well worth checking out on the big screen while it enjoys a brief theatrical run in upcoming weeks, but fans should definitely pick this up alongside his upcoming Star Wars Trilogy three-pack as a reminder of his creativity and how it can be applied in the service of enhancing—rather than undermining—the enjoyment of an old movie.—Todd
Also in this issue: 2004 Fall SF TV Preview: Part I, Resident Evil: Apocalypse and Atomic Betty
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