n the near future, 2008, Skye Weston (Perkins) is a doctor working for Northwest Bio, a genetics research company whose stock-in-trade is extra-utero pregnancies and fertility treatments. Ironically, nine years ago, the very research to which Skye has contributed was necessary for her and her husband, Rick, to conceive. Alas, their joy was short-lived. Their only child, Chris, born of Northwest Bio's spectacular innovations, went missing after a rowboat outing, and was presumed dead. None of Skye's remaining eggs are viable, but she and Rick still desperately long for another child.
She and Rick are just beginning to emerge from the oppressive gloom of their loss when a cryptic snip of information is left in Skye's inbox at Northwest Bio. A phrase, "baby 200," and an address. Compelled more by the still painful word, "baby," than any real suspicions, Skye idly investigates. Nothing's remarkable about the neighborhood. It's clean, with nice shops and nice people and children. One of these little boys even looks like her dead son Chris. Exactly like him.
Skye's mind skips to the possibilities: her son's alive, not dead. He was washed up on shore somewhere with no memory of who he was...
Meeting with the mother of the boy who looks so much like her own, Skye learns her son is indeed dead. This boy was brought to term in the other woman's body. But the two women do have something in common. They were both patients of Dr. Kozak (Rosenberg), Northwest Bio's lead scientist and architect.
The dark side of genetic science
For most of its two hours, Cloned is a smartly composed drama with abundant humanity. It's not so much an SF thriller as it is a treatise of technology's impact on the human stage. The suspense is primarily strung on the small, personal frame of Skye, and it's successful as long as it stays there. Whenever Cloned preens as a grand, cloak-and-dagger thriller, the tale is discredited. Skye is no Genevieve Bujold and Cloned is no Coma.
Sadly, in the last 10 minutes, the production picks apart most of its thoughtfully-embroidered work. Prior to this, Northwest Bio's and Dr. Kozak's motivations and secrets are only hinted at, but the acting, writing and directing are good enough to take the rest of it on faith. As secrets and motivations are revealed, the production's perspective shifts from maternal, individual anguish and reflection to generic, mass silliness. The pivotal confrontation scene barks with all the coherence of dispirited dogs at the pound.
Solid credit, however, is most definitely due to Elizabeth Perkins, who gives a terrific, complex performance that has as many emotional notes as a Mozart aria. It is primarily through her performance that the darker side of genetic science springs from the vacuum of the cathode ray tube.
Emotional impact abounds in this production. Dr. Kozak's scientific breakthroughs have been compromised by Skye's investigation, and in a terribly moving scene, he attempts to broker a horrible, Faustian bargain with the bereaved parents in exchange for their silence. And the emotional girders that support that moment leaves their decision in doubt. In the jaded arena of movies-of-the-week, this uncertainty is an accomplishment.
