I've been living in Cambridge for about a week now, and while I anticipated that the city would emanate some kind of intellectual aura, I didn't think it would escalate this quickly. Robes, Latin and beautiful libraries are one thing, but high-minded, critically-polarising, French, visually-stunning-yet-powerfully-moody explorations of human existence, presented in the event description as blending 'postlapsarian religious parable with speculation fiction space noir', shown in the grounds of Gonville and Caius College, are another. And I think I still need time to adapt, as evidenced by the number of words in the event description I had to Google.
In this case, the film is 2018's 'High Life', by veteran French filmmaker Claire Denis. Presented as part of the 2024 Cambridge Festival, the screening was organised by Cambridge Reproduction, an interdisciplinary research initiative dedicated to driving informed conversations about the contemporary issues posed by reproduction and reproductive policy.
Aiming to inform discussion across sciences and arts, they have organised three events for the festival: a panel discussion surrounding stem cell-based embryo models, and screenings of 'High Life' as well as the 2023 satirical rom-com 'The Pod Generation'. Given their decision to not send me to the romantic comedy, and instead to the 18-rated sci-fi horror, I can only assume that I have somehow scorned the BioNews editors, but that is an issue for another day.
'High Life' opens with Monte, played by Robert Pattinson, and his baby daughter as the sole survivors of an ill-fated mission into the furthest reaches of space. With Monte originally part of a crew composed from death row inmates, Monte's daughter is the product of sadistic experiments conducted by ship's doctor Dibs – played by Juliette Binoche – who is dedicated to creating a child through artificial insemination. Told via a non-linear narrative, Denis uses the mission's purpose and the dynamics of the crew to explore pertinent questions about the role and perception of reproduction in society today.
I felt 'High Life' exquisitely embodies the concept of reproduction as the most ultimately natural thing in the world; not necessarily as a human feature, but as a facet of biology. It can be argued that viruses constitute living organisms –despite their inability to fulfil key functions including respiration and sensitivity – by virtue of their ability to replicate. And it could be reasonably suggested that the origins of life on Earth began with an unassuming chunk of RNA, boiling away in a primordial soup, somehow copying itself into a second unassuming chunk of RNA. This is not 'reproduction' in the traditional sense but emphasises what is considered fundamentally 'life-like' with respect to our current discussions surrounding reproduction.
'High Life' explores the pertinent, complex, controversial questions that arise from the basis of reproduction being the fundamental essence of life. The film pays particular attention to the control over who is entitled to the privilege of reproduction, with the crew's criminal inmates initially considered undeserving of procreation, and subsequently treated as guinea pigs for experiments once aboard the ship. However, there are also intriguing references to the way in which certain lives – particular those of unborn children – are valued beyond those of the living, as well as how, given its sense of innate importance, reproduction can drive the most carnal, ugly aspects of an individual's character.
This is perhaps epitomised most strongly by Dibs who, whilst she initially appears superior to the rest of the crew due to her nurse's uniform and maintained beauty, is as trapped as the rest of them. Dibs dramatically declares that she is the only one on the ship who is 'totally dedicated to reproduction', an interesting statement not only because it places reproduction not as a means but as an end, but also because of its futility in the film, considering the crew's almost definitively catastrophic destiny.
However, this also taps into the other side of the coin presented in 'High Life', which is that of hope. This is not necessarily an optimistic form of hope, but one which appears to subsist despite its inexplicable and irrational origins. Monte's daughter, who he names Willow, was fathered against his will. However, despite this Monte still harbours a dedication and devotion to Willow, from before her birth until her teenage years when only the two of them remain.
I am grateful for this aspect of the film, which prevents 'High Life' from tipping entirely into crippling, devastating nihilism. I would argue that, with the rise of movements such as anti-natalism, the fatalistic concept of children and humans as net-negatives has become increasingly common. However, I believe that 'High Life' eschews this somewhat trendy cynicism and misanthropy, and instead highlights what may indeed be the truest feature of life and nature: the irresistible urge to continue, in at least some form, regardless of the circumstances.
I realise that, in discussing the fascinating explorations of reproduction in 'High Life', I have neglected to mention some of the more pervasive issues with the film: in particular that easily sixty percent of the dialogue was unintelligible, and that Denis has a strong tendency to, whilst not necessarily favour style over substance, at least use style as a substitute for substance, with varying success.
However, 'High Life', in the style of sci-fi classics including Andrei Tarkovsky's 'Solaris', Danny Boyle's 'Sunshine', and Alex Garland's 'Annihilation', is a bold and fascinating exploration into how sci-fi can inform us of what it means to be truly human, and as the discussions around reproductive policy become more pervasive, I can only hope that similar films will contribute to that discussion.
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