For years, I didn't like Gwyneth Paltrow very much. I found her whiny. 'Whiny, whiny, whiny boots of leather', I used to sing whenever she whined her way onto my cinema screen. Followed by a chorus of '6ix' by the Lemonheads, based on her unfortunate fate in the movie Se7en, notable for its refrain, "Here comes Gwyneth's head in a box". I was thrown out of many a Gwyneth Paltrow film for doing this, but it was worth it.
Yet in recent years, particularly following her standout performances in Iron Man and Country Strong, I've grown a grudging appreciation of Gwyneth's talents. Thank god then for Steven Soderberg, here in the nick of time to confirm what a skanky, disease ridden strumpet Chris Martin's missus really is. If you don't like Gwyneth, that's one damn good reason to watch Contagion right there. Nasty things do happen to her.
Nasty things happening to famous, pretty people is basically what Contagion is all about. But while I could happily sit through Gwyneth foaming at the mouth, I had less time for the unfortunate fates of Kate Winslet and Marion Cotillard. The women do most of the suffering in Soderberg's H1N1 disaster movie while the blokes do most of the whining. Matt Damon's most upset about losing his wife and child to the virus, though the worst his own symptoms get are a fat face and a bad mullet. Meanwhile, Lawrence Fishburne thinks he's still in CSI and Jude Law plays cinema's most hateful nerd, giving a bad name to bloggers everywhere. When Elliot Gould tells him "blogging's not journalism - it's just graffiti with punctuation", I almost considered hanging up my keyboard. Thank god then for Jennifer Ehle, not just the film's one true hero but also it's only brief moment of sex appeal. Even when the world's going to hell in a hand basket, it's good to know our top scientists still wear hold-up stockings.
I didn't enjoy Contagion as much as the critics. It was a competent, plausible, at times unnerving thriller that followed exactly the path you'd expect with few surprises. If you've seen Outbreak, you know exactly what's coming. That the human race is almost doomed by a pig, a bat and Gwyneth Paltrow was curiously satisfying to the misanthrope in me... but my hypochondriac side hated watching it in a packed cinema with people coughing and spluttering all around. I'd suggest watching it from inside a Jacko-style isolation tent... or the comfort of your own home. Don't talk to anyone. Don't touch anyone. Especially Gwyneth.
