Solaris (2002)
Despite being hailed as a brilliant classic, I found Stanislaw Lem's novel Solaris to be practically unreadable, and I gave up on it about halfway through. Here's an actual paragraph from the novel. See if you can get through this quicksand:
Quote:
As soon as the question of comparisons with Earth arises, it must be understood that the 'extensors' are formations that dwarf the Grand Canyon, that they are produced in a substance which externally resembles a yeasty colloid (during this fantastic 'fermentation,' the yeast sets into festoons of starched open-work lace; some experts refer to 'ossified tumors'), and that deeper down the substance becomes increasingly resistant, like a tensed muscle which fifty feet below the surface is as hard as rock but retains its flexibility. The 'extensor' appears to be an independent creation, stretching for miles between membranous walls swollen with 'ossified growths,' like some colossal python which after swallowing a mountain is sluggishly digesting the meal, while a slow shudder occasionally ripples along its creeping body. The 'extensor' only looks like a lethargic reptile from overhead. At close quarters, when the two 'canyon walls' loom hundreds of yards above the exploring aircraft, it can be seen that this inflated cylinder, reaching from one side of the horizon to the other, is bewilderingly alive with movement. First you notice the continual rotating motion of a greyish-green, oily sludge which reflects blinding sunlight, but skimming just above the 'back of the python' (the 'ravine' sheltering the 'extensor' now resembles the sides of a geological fault), you realize that the motion is in fact far more complex, and consists of concentric fluctuations traversed by darker currents. Occasionally this mantle turns into a shining crust that reflects sky and clouds and then is riddled by explosive eruptions of the internal gases and fluids. The observer slowly realizes that he is looking at the guiding forces that are thrusting outward and upward the two gradually crystallizing gelatinous walls. Science does not accept the obvious without further proof, however, and virulent controversies have reverberated down the years on the key question of the exact sequence of events in the interior of the 'extensors that furrow the vast living ocean in their millions.
Imagine reading 224 pages of that. It's a shame, because the plot is brilliant. A psychologist is sent to a facility on a distant planet to investigate a disturbance. When he arrives, he finds his dead girlfriend, quite alive. How did she get here, and how is she alive? Turns out the planet is a living, sentient creature which is manifesting human avatars based on the thoughts and memories of the facility's inhabitants.
Luckily, some filmmakers have taken this colostomy bag of a novel and digested it into something you don't want to throw across the room in disgust. There's a 165-minute Russian film version from 1972, but that sounds almost as bad as reading the novel, so I watched the 99-minute American film from 2002, despite my general disdain for Steven Soderbergh's movies. To my pleasant surprise, it's great, by far the best Soderbergh movie I've seen. I'd recommend it to anyone who likes their science fiction to be less George Lucas, Michael Bay, and Roland Emmerich and more Stanley Kubrick, Ridley Scott, and (more recently) Duncan Jones and Neill Blomkamp.