Soderbergh Bursts His Own Bubble

The alliance of Steven Soderbergh and 2929 Productions might forever ruin our world. By simultaneously releasing their new film, Bubble, in theaters, on DVD, and on high-definition television, they have effectively guaranteed that innocent movie-lovers will be suckered into purchasing the film in a format incompatible with their best interests. Unfortunately, as far as Bubble is concerned, that's every format.

Bubble is an unflattering portrait of life in Middle America, as the auteur captures a small, West Virginia town with the same perverse curiosity typically reserved for two-headed snakes. Soderbergh employs a cast of predominantly non-actors (lead actress Debbie Doebereiner is actually the manager of a KFC) to sometimes phenomenal effect. Their performances are painfully unguarded and heartbreakingly honest, the result of which is a palpable sense of schadenfreude as unglamorous characters struggle through their everyday lives for our entertainment.

The non-actors' inexperience is revealed, however, in the scenes that require them to break from the monotony of their profession. While they spend the brunt of the film toiling away in a genuinely creepy doll factory, they are stretched beyond their minimal talents when not air-brushing plastic faces or haphazardly grazing at the iffy lunches their breaks force them to consume. Soderbergh's story allows for his amateur thespians to be by turns painfully obvious and as natural as Thomas Vinterberg's wet dreams, but the contrast between the two does not allow the organic environments to cultivate an immersive narrative.

As fascinating as it is for coastal elitists like ourselves to view small town folk as we believe them to be, the curiosity is not enough to sustain the film throughout its 65-minute duration. Bubble's lengthy and intriguing first act rewards the viewer's patience with a lackluster climax and a conclusion as bland as the expressionless dolls the factory mass-produces. While Soderbergh is to be applauded for staging a murder-mystery beyond the bizarrely popular realm of populist forensics, Bubble's crime is both overwhelmingly foreshadowed and extremely out-of-character. The movie takes a sharp left turn from unrefined progression to formulaic drivel, playing into every expectation we had hoped would be disproved or at least twisted by film's end. Bubble's tragic flaw is a surprising one given its creator's track record with distinctive aesthetics-the film fails because it is consistently unable to bridge the director's desire for dogmatic authenticity with the narrative's inherent artifice.

Soderbergh is no Lars Von Trier, but he doesn't have to be, as Bubble's rawness is a gimmick for him rather than a trademark, and he is no stranger to gimmick filmmaking. His narratively void Full Frontal stripped Hollywood heavyweights of their make-up and dialogue to ensure an audience and received more viewers than it deserved because of such somewhat novel tactics. Yet forcing Julia Roberts to supply her own clothing can only carry a movie so far, and Full Frontal's narrative, consumed by transparent devices, was as narcissistic and self-serving as Bubble's is unevenly stale.

Upon further inspection it appears that Soderbergh's principle concern was not with Bubble's qualities, but with its means of public dissemination. Much has been made of Bubble's simultaneous multi-media release, as it's the first of 2929 Productions' six such high-def projects, all slated to be directed by Soderbergh. The most high-profile production to be released in a day-and-date fashion, Bubble has elicited concern from critics in both the cinematic and financial communities. If the venture proves successful, the theater industry could face yet another threat to its existence.

But is such concern warranted? The cinema has been an American institution of unquantifiable social value for over a century and has survived the trials of production codes and VCRs. Won't the niche audience that's eagerly anticipating the film's release want to see it in the most rewarding environment: the cinema?

The theatrical atmosphere is still magical and uniquely immersive, a time-honored fact that no amount of unctuous advertisements can detract from. Movies are more than just movies; almost everyone has gone to a predictably mediocre film for the sake of the experience alone-some people go because they expect a film to be terrible. Would people buy an unabashedly campy B-movie for their couch, or do classics such as Texas Chainsaw Massacre feed off the communal melange of terror and glee that's cultivated in the dark?

If 2929 Productions ends up saving the industry, I'll gladly swallow my words, but as for now the cinema is a far more invaluable bubble than Soderbergh's latest hiccup of a movie.