Speaking as a movie-consumer's advocate ­ though not necessarily as a book
critic ­ I suggest at least a cursory skim through Michael Crichton's source
novel before going to see Sphere. This will inoculate you against an otherwise likely
sense of annoyance at getting roped into a classic bait-and-switch con. In other
words, don't trust the impression created by Sphere's intriguing trailers that it
has much to do with the awe and terror of direct contact with an advanced alien intelligence.
Without totally blowing the surprise element of this movie (which in any event I'm
urging all but the staunchest Crichtonheads to skip), I have to tell you that what
Levinson and company have cooked up here bears as much resemblance to, say, Roger
Corman's schlocky Galaxy of Terror as the blend of The Abyss and Contact you've been
led to expect. The characters are a mixed bag of scientists sent to probe what is
apparently the 300-year-old wreckage of an alien spacecraft resting a quarter-mile
deep on the Pacific Ocean floor. At every step in their early quest we're plied with
images and music that promise an encounter with physical and psychological immensity;
big stuff to wrap our eyes and minds around. But all is not as it seems. For one
thing, the investigation quickly strikes a brick wall ­ or, rather, a big
slithery-surfaced gold orb the explorers find in the ship's cargo hold. Right about
here, Levinson's skillfully accumulated head of dramatic tension begins to leak away
with an almost audible hiss. The scientists start bickering (Hoffman and Stone's
characters have had an ugly romantic crash-and-burn in their past, and Jackson and
Schreiber are lifelong rivals). Inexplicable disasters soon begin to occur, possibly
connected in some mysterious way to all the bad emotional karma in the air. And that,
costly trappings aside, is your movie. Basically, what Sphere delivers is a mediocre
Outer Limits TV script resting atop a massive, needlessly complex superstructure
of overplotting, high-dollar f/x and banal head games. With screenplays this poor
(and the fault lies not only with Crichton but the three other writers who adapted
his novel), I'm inclined to cut slack for actors who are left with an unreasonable
share of heavy lifting to do. So it'll be here, although both Jackson and Hoffman
ought to be ashamed of themselves for letting Stone pour this much passion and energy
into her inanely written role while they basically skulk in the scenery's dark corners
hoping nobody will notice them. Sorry, guys, you're busted. As for you, Barry ­
and anyone else in Hollywood who persists in believing Michael Crichton's literary
oeuvre is suitable fodder for classy sci-fi adventure films: Wake up and smell the
cheese. For every Jurassic Park blockbuster there'll be three ponderous duds like
Sphere or Congo, and you can take that to the bank. (2/20/98)
2.0 stars Russell Smith
--Russell Smith
Full Length Reviews
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Capsule Reviews
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Other Films by Barry Levinson
Disclosure 
Liberty Heights 
Sleepers 
Wag the Dog 
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The Postman 
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