The number fifty-two seems to pop
up in a lot of things (like seven and thirteen). There are fifty-two weeks in a year. There are fifty-two playing cards (less the
jokers) in a standard deck (and also part of the name of one of the more
frustrating games that can be played with them – Fifty-Two Pickup). Okay,
maybe there aren’t all that many significant instances of fifty-two in our
world, but it stands out for me (and I’m sure almost every other comic book
fan) for one reason: Fifty-two is the number of Earths in the DC Comics universe (for the time
being). What this means is that there
are multiple variations of all of DC’s
characters in some form or another, and the concept as a whole is referred to
as a multiverse. My understanding is
that this idea was developed in the Sixties as a way to integrate characters
from the beginnings of superhero-dom with their modern
counterparts/reimaginings as well as further distinguishing themselves from
each other. Of course, the whole thing
became a morass of continuity where the history of some characters (Hawkman, I’m looking at you) became so
convoluted, a casual reader couldn’t tell if they were coming or going (a lot
like X-Men continuity, especially in
the Eighties and Nineties, though they and their publisher are a discussion for
some other time).
The DC multiverse was condensed into one unified universe in the epic Crisis On Infinite Earths, and for a
long time this was the status quo at DC. The occasional “off-model” permutation of a
character would be explored here or there in single issues and/or miniseries
under the Elseworlds banner. About three or so years ago, however, the
muckety mucks at DC decided to bring
back the multiverse, and so they relaunched all of their titles under the
heading of the New 52. For a great many readers (myself included)
their books quickly fell into confusion again, with some characters continuing
exactly as they left off, some starting over entirely new, and some kind of in
the middle. They managed to do in a
vastly condensed period what it took their predecessors decades to do (i.e.
muddy the waters), and while there are a few books worth reading, I personally prefer
Marvel out of the Big Two. So what has any of this got to do with Paul Hunt and Lamar Card’s The Clones? Well, as you may have already guessed, part
of the film’s plot has to do with the aforementioned “untouchable number.” I hesitate to state the connection outright,
though all things considered, telling you every last inch of this film’s plot
really wouldn’t hurt a thing in the long run.
Dr. Gerald Appleby (Michael Greene) narrowly escapes from
his laboratory after an accident is manufactured by unseen forces. Coming back around the front of the facility,
he spies someone stealing his car.
Giving chase, Gerry discovers that someone who looks just like him has
quickly and easily installed himself in the doctor’s life. Things get more complicated when CID agents
Nemo (Gregory Sierra) and Tom Sawyer
(Otis Young) are called in to “get”
the real Appleby.
You’d think with a synopsis like
that, the film’s story would be loaded with contrivances and twists, especially
considering the narration at the beginning warning the viewer about the
likelihood of human cloning within the next ten to twenty-five years. The ground work is laid out for a stimulating
movie, either physically or mentally.
Nonetheless, there is little to no consideration of the ethics or moral
implications of the process. There is
little to no consideration for the struggle Gerry needs to go through to try
and get his life back. There is little
to no consideration that he had much of a life to begin with outside of some
idyllic boating shots with his wife Penny (Susan
Hunt). In fact, Gerry, as a
character, is by and large a cipher. We
know next to nothing about him other than he is a scientist and he is
married. We learn nothing about him
throughout the course of the film. He
could just as easily be a member of the audience watching the film, and that,
to my mind, is what the film gets right.
By making the main character as inoffensively bland and blank as
possible and thrusting him through a series of chase scenes (which consume the
vast majority of the film’s run time), the audience is given the opportunity to
put itself in Gerry’s place as they root for this man who has been unjustly
persecuted for no other reason than that he is now an encumbrance. In effect, the audience becomes a double for
Gerry.
Like so many Paranoia/Conspiracy
films of this time, the focus is on the plight of one man against a nefarious
agency or agencies with fiendish machinations afoot right under the noses of
the population at large. Of course, this
is emphasized in Gerry’s dealings with everyone he comes into contact with from
his boss to his wife and damn near all other characters in between. Not only are these characters not to be
trusted, but it is made plain quite swiftly that this is so. A further clue/touch is added by having one
of the main villains (Stanley Adams)
speak with a German accent (I’m unsure if he had one naturally, but if he did,
he didn’t try to cover it up here, and it’s a plus either way). Stylistically, the paranoia angle is
reinforced via Dutch angled compositions, slow motion usage, fisheye POV shots,
smash cut editing, and the use (or non-use) of diegetic sound in the action
scenes. It is in this way that The Clones turns in on itself as these
films tend to do. Visuals of this sort
are so removed from the reality the audience knows, there is little to no sense
that can be derived, even in more traditional scenes (take the sequence of the
hippies speaking gibberish to Gerry, if you doubt me). By subverting the audience’s inclination to
make sense of what it sees, it forces multiple readings into existence (like,
say, fifty-two Earths in a multiverse).
The whole film may be taken as a Conspiracy film with psychedelic
imagery. It may be taken as a
Psychedelic film with conspiratorial leanings.
It may be taken as a quasi-incompetent (or quasi-successful, depending
on your perspective) piece of experimental filmmaking. It may be taken as Gerry’s descent into
madness. It may be taken as the seams of
Gerry’s domestic life being pulled apart. For as
much as the film claims that it’s about cloning, that’s only a tangential piece
of the pie. I think the film is a bit
more insidious than that. You can think
about it for hours and come up with a plethora of ideas, or you can think about
it for five minutes and write it all off.
Honestly, I think of it both ways at different times, and I’m fine with
that. Or maybe I only think of it one
way, and the clone of me who just stole my car thinks of it the other way.
MVT: The main idea of the
film is intriguing. I’m kind of
surprised we don’t see very many films with this premise these days (I know of
one or two in the past year or so, but outside of some very basic information,
I know nothing about them), as I think it’s a treasure trove waiting to be
mined.
Make Or Break: The finale is
great, and there is a fantastic accentuation of dead bodies as bags of meat
which is both striking and blackly comic in this environ.
Score: 6.75/10
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