Edwin Arnaudin
Long before his Lorenz Hart charmed/annoyed everyone in the Sardi’s bar on the opening night of Oklahoma! and inspired E.B. White to write Stuart Little, Ethan Hawke played another intelligent man in a desperate situation, wooing an unattainable woman. Though the circumstances of Richard Linklater’s Blue Moon and Andrew Niccol’s Gattaca couldn’t be more different, they nevertheless share that narrative DNA and are connected through a lineage of sorts that traces the evolution of one of our greatest actors.
Hawke’s performance in Blue Moon is all but guaranteed to receive an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor the morning of January 22 — and rightfully so. It’s career-best work for the actor, who showed great promise as a juvenile in Dead Poets Society and White Fang. Hawke then successfully transitioned to young adult roles, most notably playing idealistic 20something Texans — quasi-immature undergrad Jesse in Linklater’s Before Sunrise, and Troy, a college graduate floundering in “the real world” in Ben Stiller’s Reality Bites.
However, Gattaca offered Hawke a significantly more adult role. Unlike these aforementioned hipster dreamers, his Vincent Freeman doesn’t have time to waste figuring out his life. In a concise yet informative introductory flashback that sets up the rules of society in “the not-too-distant future,” our hero relates his predicament via cold but matter-of-fact voiceover narration that’s key to setting the film’s dystopian tone.
Conceived “the old-fashioned way” instead of with the aid of a geneticist, Vincent is given a life expectancy of 30 years at birth due to a heart condition. No matter how qualified he is to be an astronaut — his ideal job since childhood — his “substandard” DNA disqualifies him from such a prestigious position. But he’s determined to find a way in before his predetermined expiration date, and the ticking clock and lack of support from his pragmatic family inspire him to seek extreme measures.
The situation prematurely vaults Vincent into independence and adulthood, a leap that Hawke handles with veteran aplomb. Posing as former swimming star Jerome Eugene Morrow (Jude Law, in his breakthrough role) — a now paralyzed ally who provides him with the necessary blood and urine to pass society’s numerous checkpoints — Vincent gains employment as a navigator at the Gattaca Aerospace Corporation, where he presents as an emotion-free perfectionist. But behind the scenes, the thorough preparation necessary to pull off this ruse brings out a different type of calculated performance from Hawke, and his mastery of both sides is a marvel to behold.
His shared moments with Law are especially rich. Niccol presents a fascinating collision of a genetically superior man who didn’t value what he had and an outsider who’ll go to great lengths to live that life — including scrubbing himself each morning to remove cellular material that would expose him, and outfitting his fingertips and groin with apparati to avoid detection — and the two future Oscar nominated actors ace their assignments.
As with Blue Moon, however, Gattaca is far more than a meaty Hawke performance. An exercise in tonal mastery, the film presents a hypnotic vision of the future — one achieved through deceptively simple means under the guidance of Jan Roelfs, Peter Greenaway’s go-to production designer. The titular business is housed in Frank Lloyd Wright’s Marin County Civic Center, and its clean modern architecture translates nicely to the futuristic setting. Likewise fitting that cool retro vibe, the cars resemble designs from the 1960s, albeit accompanied by a now-familiar electric vehicle hum. And the straightforward black and white suits designed by the legendary Colleen Atwood suggest that personal style has no place in this society. Vincent’s colleague-turned-love-interest Irene (Uma Thurman, Hawke’s soon-to-be real-life wife) wears a silver dress when they’re out but that’s about as flashy as it gets.
Within these familiar yet convincing details, green and yellow neon lighting accents prove surprisingly effective at suggesting a setting outside our current timeframe that continues to get the job done nearly 30 years after Gattaca’s release. As with buildings, automobiles, and fashion, creative expression has similarly been muted across other facets of this world, resulting in an impersonal existence where pleasures are sadly few.
That such a visually compelling milieu is achieved in a tactile manner is perhaps the greatest victory by Niccol and his team. Made for a reported $36 million, the film largely eschews special effects, leaving the multiple rocket launches just beyond the office as the lone noticeable use of CGI.
Amidst these confidently crafted confines and under the direction of a filmmaker who trusts his abilities as an actor, Hawke thrives in ways not yet seen a decade-plus into his gradually blooming career. And yet, as is the case with the best filmographies, obtaining the tools necessary to turn that corner required the growing pains of the roles before it.
In the decades since Gattaca, Hawke has continued to develop, inhabiting characters that reflect the wisdom and mistakes of his professional and personal lives. Much like his well-timed foray into adult roles under Niccol’s direction, Blue Moon seemingly marks a shift into a new type of onscreen persona. And if Hawke keeps expanding his skillset like he did in 1997, we might eventually be looking at one of the all-time great filmographies.
“Gattaca” is available for digital rental or purchase.
