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I saw director Michael Winterbottom's Code 46 last year at the Toronto Film Festival, just a couple weeks after I'd seen his brilliant, topical In This World. The contrasts between the two films are stark. In This World focused on two Afghan young men trying to immigrate illegally to the West, while Code 46 stars Tim Robbins and Samantha Morton as good-looking westerners finding love in a futuristic Shanghai. Furthermore, In This World was shot on digital video and made tremendous use of hand-held cameras, while Code 46 is sleek and beautiful like a major studio film. This is old hat for Winterbottom, who never repeats himself.

What's not old is the world of Code 46. The film is set in some indeterminate time in the future, when much of civilization is governed by a faceless institution called the Sphinx. It monitors people's movements, allowing access to various places only to certain people. Others are shut out altogether in the "Outside." Tim Robbins stars as William, an investigator who has the gift of empathy. When he ingests a 'virus,' he has the ability to search through people's minds and find the information he needs. He's trying to find out who's been counterfeiting and disseminating "cover"--the passes that allow people to travel from city to city. He comes upon Maria (Morton). Though he realizes she's the culprit, he can't bring himself to arrest her. Instead, he helps her celebrate her birthday at a club and then later in her apartment.

The story is carried along by Maria's cryptic voice-over, which emanates from some point in the future. The script, by Frank Cottrell Boyce, plays with time and our understanding of memory. "Can we miss something we don't remember?" one character remarks, which takes on great resonance later in the story. In that sense, Code 46 and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind are treading the same ground. But Code 46 is a more linear narrative, not as concerned with post-modern flights of fancy, but also less compelling.

On the other hand, the dialogue in Code 46 is provocative and sharp. It foresees a world in which everyone speaks English but also naturally appropriates various foreign phrases (boys and girls are "chico" and "chica"), just as American culture asserts its dominance over the world and yet incorporates "foreignness" (ethnic food, Japanime) into its cultural imprint. There are also some funny and poignant lines. At one point, William is going on about his kids, and Maria retorts, "Everyone's children are special. It makes you wonder where all the ordinary grown-ups come from."

I'm also impressed by a movie set in the future that doesn't see a totalitarian system as necessarily dystopic. I certainly wouldn't want to live in a world governed by a Sphinx that determines where you can and can't travel, but the fact that Winterbottom rejects the usual 1984 cliches is refreshing. Early on, a character remarks "The Sphinx knows best," and the audience is likely to expect the worst. But it turns out that, at least in this case, the Sphinx actually *did* know best.

Code 46 also rejects the usual approach to stories set in the future. While films like The Matrix used spectacular special effects to create their sci-fi look, Michael Winterbottom achieves much more with Shanghai's rapidly developing cityscape and a director's eye for formal detail. A slightly askew camera angle makes a circular hotel look like something from the 22nd century, and empty streets cast an odd pall over the proceedings. Winterbottom also references Jean-Luc Godard's Alphaville, with his long point-of-view car rides over sloping highway interchanges. The effect is both hypnotic and magical. The same is true for the musical score by David Holmes. Reminiscent of Air's work in The Virgin Suicides and Lost in Translation, he creates a beautiful moodiness with his contemporary, subtle electronica.

Like many films I've seen recently, Code 46 loses its way in the final half hour. It becomes too focused on the plot and casts off the interesting futuristic world for something much closer to home. I'm sure Winterbottom thought he was offering a commentary on the nature of love and memory, but Eternal Sunshine covers the same ground in more emotionally thoughtful ways. Still, the contrarian in me is amazed by any contemporary film which posits the Arab world as the last bastion of freedom. Painful, dirty freedom but freedom nonetheless.   

J. Robert Parks  8/12/2004