I was fourteen years old when I saw Andrew Niccol’s Gattaca for the first time. It was a defining cinematic experience for me. I was already convinced that I would someday be a director. I had watched my share of movies and written a few ambitious (and mediocre) screenplays, but really knew very little about filmmaking. I still recall the opening credits sequence as it played that night - the giant fingernail clippings and strands of hair collapsing to the ground like felled trees, Michael Nyman’s lush yet minimalistic score inviting us into the world…I knew something was different. 

And I was right. By blending science fiction with a retro style, Gattaca created a wholly original world. It’s an example of retro futurism (the name is its own definition). Dark City, another film that impacted me tremendously, was released a year later and is another example of this sub-genre.

There really isn’t any reason for people to be driving cars from the 50s in the world of the future, but that isn’t the point. The incorporation of different styles gives the film a timeless feel. This is important because the idea of playing God (one of the key themes) may seem married to modern technology, but is as ancient as humanity itself.

The color scheme is fascinating. Gold, red, and green are used in abundance. Watching the film again, I was reminded of Kiezslowski’s The Double Life of Veronique, with its beautiful and otherworldly lighting.

The story takes place in an undefined year of the future, when humans are genetically “designed” from birth. Future addictions, medical conditions, and social class are determined from day one. Ethan Hawke plays Vincent, a child born without the aids of genetic engineering. Because of a heart condition, he is unable to pursue his dream of going into space. That is, until he meets Jerome, played by Jude Law, a swimmer who was paralyzed overseas. With the help of a “broker” of sorts, Vincent assumes Jerome’s identity and rises in the ranks of Gattaca, the NASA of the future (the name is cobbled together from the letters of the DNA nitrogenous bases). We come into the story one week before a mission launch. Vincent (aka Jerome) is scheduled to be on the ship. But when someone is murdered within his department, it puts his true identity in danger of being exposed.

There are wonderful details. The recurring water imagery, suggesting not only purification, but also the state of being in the womb. The brilliant design of Jerome’s apartment, with the spiral staircase resembling a double helix and the two floors acting as an “Upstairs, Downstairs” illustration of social class. The staircase also becomes a ladder for Jude Law’s character in a Hitchcockian scene later in the film (we are told that “Borrowed Ladder” is a term for someone who steals another’s identity). When we finally catch a glimpse of Jerome’s silver medallion, it is engraved with the image of two men swimming side by side. This image is significant for a number of reasons. One, it calls to mind the sequences of Vincent and his brother playing chicken - a game where they swim away from the shore to see who tires first. Two, it represents the core idea of the film: that all men are equal, regardless of the circumstances of their birth. 

Gattaca was Andrew Niccol’s first film, which I find extraordinary. He went on to write The Truman Show and direct Simone and Lord of War. Nothing has quite measured up to his first film. According to IMDB, he has two projects in the works: The Host, based on the book by Stephanie Meyer (why, oh, why, Andrew?) and another film called The Cross. I’m holding out hope; I want nothing more than for this guy to get out of his slump and become the filmmaker it seemed he was once destined to be.

We all have landmark movie experiences. Gattaca was one of those movies for me. It was beautifully made, smart, and emotionally resonant. For that naive fourteen year old, it was a promise of what movies could be.