Contact: Sagan's Love Letter to the Earth, and to Us

Last weekend I finished Carl Sagan's Contact. The film adaptation has long been one of my favorite films. In fact, I believe I once listed it in my top-ten for an interview. Ever since experiencing Robert Zemeckis' film, I have wanted to read the book. After all, Sagan is well-known as brilliant scientist. Hell, I knew as much long before I ever saw Contact.

I once gave a speech in the ninth grade, for an octathalon competition, on the effects of nuclear war. A book on the subject by Sagan was an invaluable resource, and I'm happy to say he helped me get a gold medal in public speaking.

I'm always struck how films and books can differ as mediums, most especially when adaptation is involved. Sadly, most adaptations don't live up to the original medium. I love the Harry Potter films but much prefer the books. However, every once in a while, a book and film combo come along that seem to defy the general consensus that "the book is better than the film." Indeed, I'd venture to say that both versions of Contact are equally great, just in different ways.

Since I first encountered the film, I'll start there. Zemeckis' film adaptation, which included Sagan as writer, struck me as an intelligent and realistic portrayal of what could happen should extraterrestrial life ever make contact with Earth. There will probably be none of the characteristics common to the sci-fi genre. No little green men. No "Take me to you leader" pronouncement. No devastating assault on humanity for our resources. (Well, maybe the latter, but I'd bet we wouldn't be capable of mounting a successful defense like in Independence Day, no matter how good it'd make us feel.)

Through the unimaginable vastness of space, it seems quite logical that an extraterrestrial species would test the waters before coming all the way out here. After all, space travel is not the easiest thing in the universe. It's not like the aliens can hail a cab and say, "Earth!"

No, they'd probably send out a message first just to see if anyone was out there. And in our "technological adolescence" we'd probably respond in much the same way as the film predicts. Crazies and all. Speaking of, I'm reminded of another sci-fi film that has a quote that fits, "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals" (Men In Black). Yes, despite all our advances, all our attempts at civilization, people are not all that well equipped to deal with things on a galactic scale.

All of this is wonderfully established in the film, but what truly makes this film one of my favorites is it's dialogue between two radically different viewpoints. Ellie Arroway (Jodie Foster) and Palmer Joss (Matthew McConaughey) represent two seemingly diametrically opposed systems of belief: scientific skepticism and spiritual faith. These two belief systems generally don't react all that well whenever forced into discussion. Indeed, avoiding religion/spirituality or a person's lack thereof is the hallmark of polite discourse. However, Arroway and Joss discuss their beliefs in intelligent, reasonable ways, neither attacking nor using hurtful language. These are adults having an adult discussion. Oh, how I wish others would discuss contentious issues in such respectful manner, without resorting to attacks on intelligence. Just because one person doesn't agree with another doesn't mean that one is more intelligent than the other. Different beliefs are just that, different, no better, no worse. We can just hope that as our collective intelligence grows, our species can grow in both understanding and respect.

The film is Arroway's journey, not just through the universe, but through her own understanding of both faith, science, and the relationships she develops--especially in regards to her father and Joss. Indeed, my favorite line from the film comes from Arroway herself in response to the more cynical David Drumlin (Tom Skerritt):

Drumlin: : I know you must think this is all very unfair. Maybe that's an understatement. What you don't know is I agree. I wish the world was a place where fair was the bottom line, where the kind of idealism you showed at the hearing was rewarded, not taken advantage of. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world.

Arroway: Funny, I've always believed that the world is what we make of it.  

Not only is this particular exchange demonstrative of Arroway's optimism and nobility, it's also a wonderful dig at Drumlin's falsity.

The film version of Contact is a far more personal journey than Sagan's novel. Interestingly enough, Sagan's novel seems to be less about first contact and more of a love letter to humanity.

The book's protagonist is still Arroway--it starts and ends with her--but the book has more time to illustrate the various changes to humanity that occur after the message goes public. Arroway is the main human character, but Sagan spends almost the same amount of time on the entire human race. And he does so without the slightest hint of judgement. Yes, he does find humor in how some people might react to first contact, but his descriptions are more akin to a loving parent watching the silliness his/her child then to a fierce critic passing judgement. He loves us all: each eccentric behavior, each seemingly random choice, every triumph, and every mistake.

Sagan's book is more about humanity than it is about an alien civilization. Even the destruction of the American Machine is treated not with condemning language, but with sadness and pity. We are both our own saviors and our own enemies. There are no true antagonists in the novel, only those who have differing opinions and reactions than Arroway. Of course, being the protagonist the reader follows through the entire novel, this is understandable. Sagan offers us no "bad guy" other than ourselves.

Arroway and Joss don't have the same romantic relationship in the novel as they do in the film, but from their exchanges you can tell where the filmmakers got the idea. The two characters are a great fit, the paragons of moderation in a world of extremes, and the novel gives them more time to fully develop their arguments. However, they are not as personable as their film counterparts, or rather the novel keeps a relative distance from the more emotional aspects of the story. Of course, this isn't a criticism, just an observation. Sagan has a reason for keeping emotion at a distance, but I'll let you figure what that purpose is.

Contact in both its forms is a wonderful experience: highlighting the best and worst of us all. And Sagan approaches his subject with understanding, pity, acceptance, and love. Given the chaotic nature of the universe, we need more of each in this world.