Splice (2010)

To splice is to join. Seafarers and other rope users can elaborately interweave the strands of separate pieces to create a longer, more useful rope with a strong and seamless bond. Likewise, genetic scientists and engineers try to splice together disparate strands of DNA in the hope of creating new materials–perhaps even new life–to improve our lives. And, of course, the splice is part and parcel of the filmmaker and film editor’s craft, a tool to connect different images, plot threads, and characters into the shape of a cohesive and coherent final product. Whether the makers of Splice have succeeded in achieving cohesion and coherence is disputable, but they have managed to produce a film that mirrors its own lead character: creepy, icky, weirdly shaped, yet interesting to watch.

I like a movie that doesn’t waste a lot of time setting itself up, and, to its credit, Splice plunges in from the get-go with cleverly designed opening credits, followed by a womb-with-a-view depiction of the birth of an amorphous blob creature that may put you off your popcorn within the first five minutes. It reminded me of the giant writhing maggot pulled out of Geena Davis in The Fly, and that would not be the last 1980s science fiction film I would catch a whiff of during this movie–Aliens and Altered States both sprang to mind, among others.

This gurgling blob is christened “Fred” and has been bred as a companion to his female counterpart, “Ginger”–the Adam and Eve of a new (and patented) life form hybridized from the gene splicing of a number of different animal species. Their creators are two other vaguely amorphous characters: genetic scientists and lovers Clive (Adrien Brody) and Elsa (Sarah Polley). Their pioneering research has led to the development of new medications for livestock and the possibility of other scientific breakthroughs, but the Big Pharma company they work for–personified by a sternly accented skirt-suit executive (Simona Maicanescu) and her corporate lapdog (David Hewlett)–can’t afford their research any longer and want to move on to the production phase so they can make money instead of gurgling blobs.

Before the company shuts down their research completely, Elsa has a scientific curiosity she’s compelled to explore: What if they added human DNA to their interspecies stew? Over Clive’s repeated objections, she fertilizes a human ovum with their special genetic blend, and before you say mutato and I say muTAHto, they have a bald, shrieking thing with a stinger tail and double-jointed legs running around the lab. Clive wants to kill the abomination, but Elsa’s maternal instincts kick in, deciding to keep and raise it like a pet or a child, rationalizing that it has an accelerated life span and their observation of it will have immeasurable scientific value. Yet Elsa soon realizes that they can’t keep little “Dren” locked up in their lab without drawing suspicion.

Their decision to move the creature to a more private rural setting feels strange and awkward, as though it’s from a different movie and somehow got “spliced” into this one. The visual tone changes almost completely, and the story veers into an uncomfortably intimate realm. The structure is oddly reflective of its own subject matter, seeming as though a twisted variation of the classic domestic drama has been genetically grafted with an alien-baby creature feature. Both the movie and lead character Dren lurch along in fits and spurts, stumbling and occasionally surprising us. Logic flies out the window as swiftly as Dren does, and some moments may induce groans and eye-rolling. But, like a car wreck, you feel somewhat compelled to keep looking, and for the thrill-seeking viewer there are a few rewards (if you want to label them as such) in the form of several ewww-inducing gross-outs and encounters with Dren that are both provocative and more than a little shocking.

There are only five actors in this film with significant speaking roles, adding a couple more if you include the performers who play the whining, largely nonverbal Dren (Delphine Chanéac, Abigail Chu) at various stages of her development. It helps the movie to have Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley, two very talented and sharp actors, carrying the bulk of this small-cast movie, and despite the distinct aroma of cheese emanating from the script, they dive into their roles wholeheartedly. They’re not actors normally associated with science fiction and special effects (though Polley did debut as a child in the effects-laden The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen), so the casting is a nice touch.

However, their characters are slightly undercut by the “casting” of their movie car, which appears to be a vintage orange Ford Pinto with white stripes on the sides. Making a lead scientist character like Clive “quirky” with funky T-shirts and lab-coat appliqués is one thing, but having not just him but BOTH of these supposed geniuses of science driving around in a deathtrap Ford Pinto? Where did the production crew find that thing? And in that condition? That may be the most intriguing secret of the film, along with why the pronounced crease in Dren’s head and face disappears almost completely midway through the movie. Maybe they had to scrimp on makeup to pay for extra car insurance.

In the end, Splice is another faltering experiment in filmmaking, to be noted and examined like a biological specimen in a jar of formaldehyde–curious, possibly insightful upon further dissection, but don’t do so on a full stomach.

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