Criterion Collection: A Brief History of Time | Blu-ray Review

In wake of the massive non-fiction success that was The Thin Blue Line, singular director Errol Morris really could have done any number of things with his new found critical clout and studio interest. Having been contacted by Steven Spielberg’s production company, Amblin Entertainment, who had purchased the rights to A Brief History of Time, Stephen Hawking’s pop-culture piercing piece of science literature, shortly after its release in 1988. The book, which attempted to explain the physics behind the history of our universe in terms digestible by anyone willing to waltz into an airport bookstore, was of philosophical interest to Morris, but it was the unimaginably brilliant man trapped within his own crippled body that the filmmaker found much more fascinating. How fascinating that the man to envision the cosmos as a thing with a lifespan like any other, a beginning and an end, expanding and collapsing, just as Hawking himself has, his body having grown long ago and withered around his ever expanding mind locked within.

Taking advantage of his modest budget, Morris morphed the traditional talking head on-site interview by inviting all of his subjects to the Elstree Studios in London where he and his crew constructed a set of surreal living-room and office environments on soundstages. This gave him the opportunity to have complete control over every visual detail, from the tiny props in the set dressing to the dramatic lighting set up by his cinematographer John Bailey, who had at that point just finished shooting Paul Schrader’s hyper stylized Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. They even went through the trouble of documenting and reconstructing a faux version of Hawking’s office, complete with Marilyn Monroe posters and all.

The film’s re-release is strangely timed alongside the theatrical release of Particle Fever, another documentary that delves into the physics that might unlock the secrets of the universe, but what’s most interesting about Morris’s film is how it tries its best to sidestep the impossibly dense scientific speak one might expect from such a topic. Instead, his film is more of a biographical dissection of Hawking, primarily unearthing the narratively rich period before Hawking was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease and the subsequent years in which he began to lose his mobility, but found a reason for living in his scientific work. In speaking with Hawking’s mother and sister, his instructors, mentors and colleagues, we begin to piece together a story much more sympathetic and relatable than the brainy wheelchair bound caricature most people are exposed to today. Before he was a world renowned scientific icon, he was a whip-smart kid wasting time finding new ways into his house and drinking long into the night with college buddies. But alas, the wheelchair remains, the on/off clicker in hand, his only means of communication with the world around him.

Despite his hinderance, Hawking does in fact sit for an interview, though not in the traditional into-the-camera Morris style. Instead, we see him in an extensive set of stylized portraits, his alienating computer generated voice droning aloft the complimentary elegance of Philip Glass’ score. His answers tend to dwell on the technical side of things, black holes, the big bang, imaginary time and the like, but Morris knows even more than his subject that cinema is a form in which topics such as these demand brevity in order to keep the attention of its audience, and brief he wisely keeps them. Melding these massive interstellar concepts with a heartrending and often humorous portrait of their great theorist, A Brief History of Time acts as a mindboggling biographical companion piece to Stephen Hawking’s now classic written work.

Disc Review:

Light for a Criterion disc, this dual format Blu-ray/DVD release looks and sounds quite incredible, but lacks the kind of supplemental substance we’re used to from the company. John Bailey’s extreme close-ups benefit immensely from the extra clarity allowed from the HD upgrade, but the occasional outdated CGI unfortunately looks even more out of place than it did to begin with. The Philip Glass score sounds outstanding pumping through a new 5.1 DTS-HD mix, floating vivaciously beneath the recounted stories and technical talk that lines the film.

Interview with director Errol Morris
In his classically chatty style, Morris fills in the blanks left by his film. He admits his lack of enthusiasm for the project in its beginning stages, his relationship with Hawking, his disappointment with the CGI within the film and why he believes the film is his most romantic. 34 min

Interview with cinematographer John Bailey
Looking back, Bailey speaks on coming off of his collaboration with Paul Schrader on Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, knowing Morris only from his first feature Gates of Heaven and Les Blank’s doc in which Werner Herzog upholds his losing bet that the Morris would fail in his first feature endeavor by cooking and eating his shoe. He speaks elegantly about collaborating with Morris and how he decided on the visual look of the film. 12 min

Booklet
Featuring a wonderfully intuitive essay on the film by David Sterritt, an excerpt of Hawking’s own look back at his breakthrough work from My Brief History, as well as a snippet from A Brief History of Time itself, this booklet is stuffed with beautifully rendered screen captures from the film, as well as technical information about the film’s transfer.

Final Thoughts:

Within the greater context of Errol Morris’ work, this film had long been a missing piece, having not gotten the attention of his other works nor a decent home release that might spark post theatrical interest. On a surface level examination of the film, it’s easy to see why this one in particular could be overlooked. It is indeed a narratively dryer, visually weaker film than it’s predecessor, nor as straight up strange as the two that preceded that, but on its own there is plenty to love. Hawking’s story is one of man’s incredible resilience and unbelievable intellect, as well as our technological ingenuity, not just in our scientific theories, but our ability to rig biological failures to function as bionic super-beings with only a computer and a switch. Criterion, though light on the supplements, does A Brief History of Time justice, setting right what’s been wrong for far too long.

Film:     ★★★/☆☆☆☆☆
Disc: ★★★½/☆☆☆☆☆