Gattaca

Andrew Niccol directed London commercials for over ten years before this, his first feature; he also wrote The Truman Show, made the year after. The title is assembled from the initials of DNA’s four bases, G, A, T and C. Note where the tension is kept: this is not built on chases. Vincent scrubs off every loose hair and flake of skin each morning, carries a paralysed swimmer’s blood and urine, and hides a heart defect; the investigation turns on one eyelash. A grooming routine is the suspense mechanism, so anyone waiting for action watches it idle. Almost nothing in the look was invented. Gattaca headquarters is Frank Lloyd Wright’s Marin County Civic Center, the public address carries Esperanto announcements arranged with the Esperanto League of North America, and the cars sit on Rover P6, Citroën DS19 and Studebaker Avanti bodies. It has dated far less than its contemporaries. It sank commercially, taking 12.5 million dollars in North America on a 36 million dollar budget, and found its audience later. A closing sequence naming real historical figures who would have failed genetic screening was shot, then cut. A good fit if you want the threat to come from the hero’s morning routine. Not for a viewer holding out for the promised trip into space, which the film never turns to.