Bubble
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Grade: A

Let us not underestimate the work of Steven Soderbergh. Just because a director signs onto projects that bring about less than passionate results does not necessarily mean that such a director possesses no artistic flair. While films like Ocean’s Twelve or The Limey are exemplary of the spectacle of cinema, they are, nonetheless, executed with the precision of a hidden talent. With Bubble, Steven Soderbergh has reinvented himself as the filmmaker his buried style always suggested and joins the likes of Richard Linklater whose own inconsistencies did not prevent him from releasing a masterpiece like Before Sunset.

A common technique utilized by Robert Bresson was to strip any indication of performance from his actors by wearing them out with take after take. Soderbergh approaches it from a different angle in which he builds up his characters from nothing, shunning the Hollywood star system in favor of unknown actors who carry with them no preconceived notions of dramatic acting. The results, far from the amateur feel of a student film or (worse yet) a home movie, are truly astounding. I feel absolutely confident in claiming that Debbie Doebereiner’s role as Martha, the lonely employee of a doll factory, will stand as the most authentic and touching performance of the entire year. If the Academy had any sense about it they’d see it fit to grant her the acclaim she so rightfully deserves.

Then again, maybe the Academy doesn’t consider this acting. The point isn’t whether these actors are playing themselves or playing versions of themselves tailored for the camera, it’s that they exist realistically and interact without pretense in an environment that Soderbergh and screenwriter Coleman Hough don’t so much conjure up as bring before the objective eye of the camera. An actor would approach such a role as a foreigner attempting to blend into the part; their task not so much to create a character as to shed the persona already attached to them. In other words, in order to accept them in all this glorious austerity we must first unlearn to identify them as the star we know all too well.

The Neorealists already grasped this concept when they attempted to divert the focus from the stage presence of the star to the environment in which the films developed and its relation to reality. Does this make Soderbergh a sort of neo-neorealist? Well, yes and no. Neo-realism by and large was a movement toward a new cinema, Bubble, on the other hand, is a singular diversion or experiment away from the director’s own past. In that respect Soderbergh’s work here retains the taint of novelty and could easily be seen as nothing more than a lark or departure for this commercial director, but that would require one to ignore the emotional impact of the story, which is grand in scope and yet rooted firmly in simplicity. It boggles the mind to contemplate why more directors don’t take such a route. It’s inexpensive and easy to undertake, and yet, with the right touch, the rewards are infinite. In an age where many films seek to recreate what was once grand about cinema, here is a film that simply is cinema.