Bulk

Bluesky

Bulk does explain its somewhat cryptic title. Within the text, perhaps obviously, but also with a degree of metatextuality. It's a journey, one that's willing to back project and foreground in equal measure. It's a labyrinth too, but I was not hesitant because I was confident in Ben Wheatley as a guide. The studied artificiality of it all isn't just a tribute to decades of (specifically) British science fiction but a part of the process, one of several keys to unlocking what I might waggishly call a "ten-bob TENET".

I will not list all the things that I was somewhat reminded of, in part because Wheatley himself does so in the credits. These are sufficiently self reflexive that even if they weren't literally in his handwriting they'd be a signature. That includes glimpses deeper than behind the scenes, to storyboards and diagrams of techniques and processes. It's not a map, it's a blueprint, a means of telling fortunes and a handsome puzzle to boot.

Those of us who've acquired science fiction or fantasy series over sufficiently long periods that sequential volumes are covered in different styles or publishers or (worst of all) bindings and formats will recognise the 'brane' that's referenced isn't just an opportunity for puns but something that points to higher dimensions. Folding and unfolding and looping and referencing Bulk is a film where even as I was watching for it I hoped for a director's commentary, a wish granted in part by those credits that aren't an answer key or an index but a further form of map. If you've got one of those series then you might recognise that some have the map at the beginning so you know where you might go but not what will happen, and if you've others you'll recognise that some have a map at the end so you know where you've been.

Bulk is all map, no territory, and all territory, no map. I was delighted by it, but I've had to step over a subscription copy of 2000ad when returning from an Edinburgh Film Festival screening. I recognised in Sam Riley a Ballardian someone, not an everyman or an Omni-man but a particular face as familiar as Noah Taylor's. Alexandra Maria Lara and Mark Monero square up a primary cast that double and redouble their efforts to unravel the clues that might be tied to the tail of the minotaur.

The mirth around the monomyth, even a joke about time that isn't quite running, were not aimed at me specifically but I knew more than enough for them each to (decoder) ring a bell. Without that I couldn't tell you how much you would enjoy it, but would say that if one treats it as a map you'll find new aspects in this thereafter. That's one of the joys of this kind of story, that once you've been through it you can unlock it yourself. Though I say that as a person, for Schrodinger's Cat is much more uncertain about things and it's someone else's who can walk through walls.

It's that which makes Bulk difficult. If you've bought science fiction in quantities that could be described thus it's for you. Whether that brief be text or telly or the publisher Baen or Pan the odds of you getting the references are reaching up to 99 to one. If you haven't then there's no monolith I can point you to, because as clear as Bulk is in explaining itself its diversions and depth require context it couldn't provide. Its perspectives are admittedly forced but some audiences will have more levers to avoid being tired of it, while others will feel they should instead get on their bike. I was smiling throughout, but if you're not in on the joke you might feel that it was at your expense. I bought into it, because I know Wheatley's a good investment, but others may balk.

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