“Ensemble” films, with their large casts and numerous sub-plots, have been around for years, e.g., Grand Hotel, Dinner at Eight, Earthquake, Nashville, A Wedding, and even Traffic, which (not so coincidentally) was directed by the director of Contagion, Steven Soderbergh. Although the absence of a clearly-identified “protagonist” can be problematical—such films may thus lack an emotional centre—box-office insurance comes from providing an “all-star” cast. Thus, even if audiences subconsciously miss having a “main” character or characters with whom to identify, they may still be willing to purchase tickets, lured by a plethora of star names and by whatever exploitative hook the picture presents as a selling point: a natural disaster, a man-made disaster, a notorious crime, a major event, a critical social problem, etc.
Contagion meets the ensemble-film criteria—a strong cast, a multiplicity of fragmentary personal stories revolving around a central topic (a deadly epidemic)—and also suffers the usual problems of such pictures. Who do we follow and care about? Mitch (Matt Damon), the grieving husband who lost his wife and son and is determined to save his teenage daughter? CDC Bureaucrat Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) whose love for his wife causes a lapse in professionalism? CDC doctor Mears (Kate Winslet) who contracts the disease she’s investigating? WHO doctor Orantes (Marion Cotillard), held hostage in a Chinese village until a supply of the newly-discovered vaccine is delivered in exchange for her freedom? Sleazy science blogger Alan (Jude Law), who utilises people’s fear of the epidemic to become rich and famous? And so on and so forth. Contagion gives us a minute or two of each character’s story, then jumps elsewhere on the globe for a couple of minutes, then jumps again, and again…until we’ve made the rounds of the sub-plots and it’s time to start over with character #1. We get to know these people superficially and even care about some of them to a certain extent—the sequence in which Mitch gives his daughter a “home prom” is sweet, and when Dr. Mears falls ill it’s a real blow, she seemed to have potential to be a “main” character—but no one’s motivations or actions are examined in detail, and the film at times resembles a documentary with sporadic “dramatic re-creations” of certain key events.
It’s also ironic that, despite the globe-trotting nature of the story, relatively little is shown of the effect the epidemic is having on society across the world. Mitch and his daughter’s sub-plot is the closest the film comes to depicting “real people” dealing with the fear, food shortages, lawlessness, and the like (although a lot is said about the enormous death toll, panic, and unrest), but for the most part the film is rather insular, concentrating mostly on scientific and bureaucratic efforts to fight the disease.
Yet, Contagion consistently holds one’s interest despite its narrative format (which, because it is so peripatetic, requires onscreen date & location titles to orient the audience) and despite the fact that not much really happens onscreen. Mitch’s wife Beth (Gwyneth Paltrow) is “patient zero,” who spreads the illness across multiple continents, a process unraveled rather cleverly over the course of the film, which is otherwise not particularly involved in depicting medical or scientific process in any detail. Even the bureaucratic wrangling which occupies a huge part of Contagion’s running time is vague and espouses no clear point of view: are governments in league with drug companies to exploit the epidemic and its cure for their own ends? Who knows? The chief proponent of this argument is Alan, exposed as a fraud himself. The Chinese villagers holding Dr. Orantes hostage claim China (as well as various third-world nations) are being denied the vaccine for political reasons. True? Or is there simply not enough to go around?
I suppose one could thus use Contagion as an example that films don’t have to be “about” anything, nor does viewer interest depend on (a) a linear narrative, (b) a clearly identified protagonist, (c) onscreen action, (d) in-depth characterisations, back-stories, and dramatic development, or (e) a clear point of view. Contagion doesn’t have these things—at least not to any significant degree or in great quantity—and yet it’s surprisingly engrossing. I don’t think I’d want a steady diet of such films (nor would I want only “serious” dramas or wacky comedies or adrenaline-rush-inducing action movies), but this one—while not a classic—is entertaining enough for a one-time viewing.
