Back in January, when coronavirus was nothing more than “China’s problem” to most Americans, Contagion, as a “relevant revisit,” started to rise up the ranks of the rental movie charts (that really just means iTunes). It was as though Americans were still living in a Technicolor bubble when this form of schadenfreude was an enjoyable way to “partake” of the newsworthy item. That is, until it happened to them and every frame of their lives turned gray. It was at such a point that the paint by numbers plot, written and thoroughly researched by Scott Z. Burns, of how a pandemic unfolds was no longer so thrilling. As his second film with Steven Soderbergh (by 2020, with The Laundromat, the two would have collaborated on four movies together), it seemed to keep in line with the thematic thoroughness of their first, The Informant! Except here, there is no wryness, no sardonic sense of irony. It is simply a very straightforward approach to telling its audience how a novel virus’ spread operates, and the according bedlam that ensues in trying to contain both the disease and the public’s reaction.
Structured through intertwining narratives (a trend propelled by Alejandro González Iñárritu’s 2006 film, Babel), it all starts with Beth Emhoff (Gwyneth Paltrow), who we’re introduced to with a cough over a black screen before the camera reveals her sitting in an airport already looking sickly with the title card: Day 2. Thus, we know right away it’s going to escalate quickly from that ominous documenting of the days (and soon after January, we would know from firsthand experience). That Contagion came out in 2011–two years after what was deemed an “overblown” response by the CDC to H1N1–seemed to highlight the inevitability of another epidemic–nay, pandemic–that would be even worse. Which is why then president Barack Obama continued to encourage the development of pandemic preparedness in conjunction with the President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology (PCAST). In October of 2009, Obama declared swine flu to be a national public health emergency. The panic that swept the nation caused some states (most notably California) to stockpile equipment in preparation for widespread transmission of the virus. If only they had preserved some of that mentality for the present. While millions were infected in ‘09 through ‘10, no one got the “big bang” they were actually prepared for. Instead, it came with coronavirus, at a time when people appeared to forget all about such quaint notions as wearing a mask or letting the hand sanitizer flow.
Perhaps that’s why, at the time of Contagion’s release, it was met with something of a thud by audiences who really didn’t want to be disgusted for two hours and/or reminded of such “panic-mongering” over a pan(ic)demic–especially since they had already been met with such alarmist messaging so recently. Thus, it took 2020’s arrival for the masterfully accurate unfolding of how a virus upends day-to-day life to be fully appreciated. And as the opening music, composed by Cliff Martinez and entitled “They’re Calling My Flight,” shows all the ways in which people touch everything they can get their hands on in the public space, we’re given the ultimate “serial killer” treatment–except that this particular serial killer is both invisible, genderless and completely non-discriminating. After all, a virus does not think, it just is. And, as Susan Sontag once pointed out, “…illness is not a metaphor… the most truthful way of regarding illness—and the healthiest way of being ill—is one most purified of, most resistant to, metaphoric thinking.”
That lack of metaphoric thinking is apparent in Contagion’s presentation of events. With each new person in the world briefly focused on while in their overt state of feverishness and discomfiture on Day 2, whatever city they’re in is given a title card, along with the population of that city (e.g. “Kowloon Hong Kong, population 2.1 million”). The intent, of course, is to let us know just how massive the spread might–and will–get.
It doesn’t take long for red flags to get the attention of CDC director Dr. Ellis Cheever (Laurence Fishburne), who enlists backup as soon as possible to appraise the wake left in patient zero’s contaminated path. That leads Epidemic Intelligence Service officer Erin Mears (Kate Winslet) to Minneapolis, where she starts setting up as many temporary medical facilities as she can before she herself gets infected. Yet before the fictional MEV-1 gets to her, she has plenty of time to deal with the ruffled feathers of bureaucrats as she tries to explain the severity of the situation without being able to provide a specific name for what’s causing so much havoc. “Sometimes, people can be contagious without even having symptoms,” Erin patiently explains to a Minneapolis government official seemingly plucked from the “Trump USA” pool. It is in this moment that we get only a vague snapshot of what someone like Dr. Fauci has been dealing with during the ineffectual reign of the Trump administration.
More than just Contagion’s attention to detail on how novel viruses are born and then tracked is its spotlight on the chaotic aftermath. Specifically, a wary public often unwilling to believe what they’re told–convinced it’s another media conspiracy to control their actions. By the end of Act Two, the looting has begun, spurred by the sheer uncertainty of everything–well, that and the desperation. In scenes that now look all too familiar, the fight for one’s own survival must take precedence over anyone else’s. To intensify that innate human selfishness that shines forth whenever a major crisis or catastrophic event occurs, there is the phobia of making any kind of contact with a stranger. Most obviously that of the tactile variety; a heightened fear of letting any “foreign” human touch you, let alone come near you, as is the case when Mitch (Matt Damon) and his daughter, Jory (Anna Jacoby-Heron), are approached by a crazed woman at a pillaged supermarket. Outside, Mitch douses Jory’s hands with sanitizer in a scene that, once again, radiates eerie familiarity for the warranted paranoia we’ve all been forced to succumb to. Along with all the terms that have become quotidian, like “quarantine,” “social distancing,” “droplets” (the grossest word of all) and “fomites.”
As Act Three ramps up, Contagion addresses the portion of the coronavirus “fun” we still haven’t gotten to in 2020, but that will surely come to roost in 2021: the distribution of the vaccine. With the likes of internet conspiracy theorist/“journalist” Alan Krumwiede (Jude Law) already casting doubt on the “validity” of the cure (rife for black market peddling–whether it’s a fake or not), he stands by his promotion of the “homeopathic remedy” forsythia (not totally unlike Trump insisting that both Clorox and hydroxychloroquine are perfectly viable, even if not homeopathic). So much so that his endorsement overwhelms supplies at the pharmacy–leading to one of many instances of bum-rushing and looting in stores.
When the vaccine does become available (as quickly as it has for the current situation, in the race to stop the spread of corona), “normal” people are expected to wait for access to it, on average, for about a year (wielding the Vietnam War draft method of drawing numbers in a “lottery” for people to receive their injection based on their birthday). Obviously, such “most connected” and “most affected” rules for distribution are going to anger many people who feel they’re just as deserving, as well as create the aforementioned black market. Ending around Day 135, as Alan stands outside a vaccination center taking pictures, one wouldn’t necessarily say that everything is “tied up in a bow” just because there is a vaccine. What Contagion aims to say, as it shows in the final frames what happened to create the virus leading up to “Day 1,” is basically: bad shit (a.k.a. bat shit) happens, people are going to die.
That, ultimately, is the main point of the film–to present, with an unbiased lens, what occurs when the mechanics of a pandemic begin to unfurl onto the world, exclusively due to human tampering with the natural order of the animal kingdom’s environment. Along the trajectory of a novel virus’ journey, some will die for no reason–and often because of sheer stupidity driven by bravado. Others will die in service of the cause. That, alas, is the nature of living in this cluster fuck called Earth, where the commingling of animals and humans is creating evermore high-risk potential for novel viruses to appear.
This blog is pretty brilliant, great work. I wouldn’t reference Inarittu’s film(s) as what “propelled” these kinds of intertwined-narrative film’s though, as many directors have popularly utilized it long before him (Bunuel, Altman, Linklater, heck, even Soderbergh’s own ‘Traffic’). It is a necessary narrative device for a pandemic flick, though, if you think about it. Anywho, thank you for this.