“Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present.” This is the central philosophy of CLOUD ATLAS, a film which transcends chronological boundaries to weave the threads of six intertwining narratives which don’t quite tie up satisfactorily.

CLOUD ATLAS doesn’t ask you to believe in the concept of past lives, it shows you. Including such myriad sub-plots as a lawyer dying of a parasite in the 1850s pacific; a gay amanuensis in 1930s Scotland; a female reporter investigating a political conspiracy in 1973 San Francisco; an elderly publisher trapped in a nursing home; a clone in dystopian Neo Seoul and a man struggling against cannibals in a post-apocalyptic future, this is a film which is bursting at the seams with its creators’ enthusiasm.

A reader’s enjoyment of the source material, David Mitchell’s book Cloud Atlas, might skew her judgement of the cinematic reinvention. Inevitably, the original plot has been moulded for celluloid, and some subtleties and character development have been lost. Directors Tom Tykwer and the Wachowskis have done a commendable job in cutting up pieces of the original storyline and pasting them into an elaborate collage of uncanny faces and period interiors. Tykwer and the Wachowskis are highly compatible with the format of this film: Tykwer demonstrated his ability to create a work with multiple storylines in RUN LOLA RUN, and the Wachowskis are sci-fi veterans who perfectly construct the neon sky-scape of Neo Seoul. This particular strand of the CLOUD ATLAS tapestry was particularly visually impressive, and derives from one of the strongest sections of the novel. That being said, this portion suffered from the same predictability as the original work: the lowly clone proletariat becoming enlightened to the bourgeois “pure blood” farce of supremacy. That critique aside, Korean actress Donna Bae as the “fabricant” Somni-451 delivers a delightfully delicate performance that conveyed just the right balance of vulnerability and purpose.

Hugo Weaving is eerily convincing as an abusive female nurse, but less plausible as a Korean chairman…

Each actor wears many faces (quite literally, with the aid of specialist make-up and prosthetics) in order to convey the idea of recurring souls across the ages. As a directorial choice, this makes sense. Film is a visual medium, and the reappearance of familiar faces aids the audience in making links – although the conceit is not always successful. Hugo Weaving is eerily convincing as an abusive female nurse, but less plausible as a Korean chairman. The same problem afflicts Jim Sturgess. Whilst the casting of actors in numerous ethnic roles is not necessarily a problem, and it could be argued that one message of the film is the mutability of human identity as one people, the practical limitations of this were distracting. With some of the most demanding roles, such as a goat-herd speaking pidgin English in the distant future, a corrupt physician and a skinhead Irishman, Tom Hanks seems to be enjoying himself rather than acting – although the reliable Jim Broadbent provides some doddering comedy in his role as the mature publisher, and Ben Whishaw’s soft tones are perfect for the cunning ex-Cambridge musician Robert Frobisher.

“We cross and re-cross our old paths like figure-skaters,” and it seems CLOUD ATLAS skates on thin ice. The limitations of the running time, even at a heady three hours, mean that there is little potential for a change of pace and a longer look at some very interesting characters. Rather than a map of clouds, this film is a map of storms, and the tempestuous results of human love and loss. However, the depth of the original work doesn’t quite translate over to the screen, and this ambitious adaptation is an exquisite but forgettable work of art.

httpvh://youtu.be/hWnAqFyaQ5s