Photo: Brent Humphries
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Engineering
usually gets short shrift in the movies, even when it
comes to science-fiction films, in which engineers are
usually portrayed as if they are magicians, fixing warp
drives or disabling security systems at the flick of
a screwdriver. But in Primer, an independent science-fiction
film made for just US $7000, engineering is faithfully
depicted in all its messy glory: sufficiently so to garner
the Alfred P. Sloan prize for advancing science and technology
in film. The movie is a critical success, too, winning
the top prize at this year's prestigious Sundance Film
Festival.
Lights,
Camera, And All Action: Shane Carruth went from math and
computer science to writing, costarring in, and directing
a science-fiction film about time travel. His Primer then
won the Alfred P. Sloan prize for advancing science and technology
in film.
The
plot centers around a group of entrepreneurial hardware
engineers who moonlight together in a garage, working
on various projects that they hope will bring them to
the big time. Two of the group discover a peculiar and
unexpected side effect of their latest prototype, and
as parts are begged, borrowed, and stolen, they grope
toward a creation that will nearly destroy them both:
a time machine.
IEEE
Spectrum Associate Editor Stephen Cass talked to Primer's
writer, director, editor, and costar, Shane Carruth,
about how he engineered a great movie.
What kind of engineering background do you have?
I
studied math and computer science in college,
and even started a graduate program in math,
but I quit after a few days, because I realized
it was going to be difficult to do my own research—I
would be doing a lot of other people's research.
An
entrepreneurial spirit took over, and I felt that whatever
I did was going to be on my own terms, so I decided to
make some money and apply that toward whatever venture
I chose. I started writing software in C and C++ for
a flight simulator at Hughes Aircraft and then got into
Web work. I did back-end database design and then started
consulting.
How did you end up becoming an independent moviemaker?
All
this time I was writing, and as time went on,
my writing veered more and more toward a screenplay
format. I realized that writing a screenplay
and turning it into a movie was the thing I was
going to try and do. I continued working to save
up cash, and when I thought I had enough, I quit.
Did
you have an engineering-oriented movie in mind from the beginning?
I always knew thematically what the story was going
to be: it was going to start with two guys that
were close at the beginning and then, because
of the introduction of power, they would not
be close by the end. But the setting came about
because I was reading a lot of nonfiction books
about the history of the transistor, of Bell
Labs, of calculus, of the number zero, and so
on. There seem to be many commonalities between
[these stories]. What really happens in innovation
is that nobody knows exactly what they're doing;
they're just kind of pulling pieces together.
I wanted to see that play out in my movie.
Are the characters based on people you know?
Not specifically. It seems that everybody I know
in Dallas has a day job but aspires to something
else on the side, some kind of entrepreneurial
venture. That's where these guys come from.
There's a lot of technical conversation in the movie. Were you worried general audiences would be turned off by
the jargon?
I've
had some former engineers who are now in the
film world come up to me after a screening at
a festival and say something along the lines
of "I can't believe you have all that engineering
in your film—I don't know who you think
would get any of that!"
But
those scenes that are jargon-heavy are written with a
couple of purposes. I really did want the science to
be something I believed, but at the same time, even if
you can't understand a word of the jargon, the scenes
make sense in that there's also information in there
about the politics of the group.
If
people are into the jargon, they'll appreciate it, and
if not, they're still going to get something out of it.
Whatever the subject matter is, if you handle it authentically,
people recognize that, even if they're not part of that
world.
The
time machines in Primer are much more limited
than most science-fiction time machines. The characters
can't use a machine to go back to a point in time earlier
than the moment a machine is first turned on, for example.
Where did you get the idea for the machine's operation?
I
knew that I wasn't interested in doing the kind
of time travel where you can arbitrarily jump
around—that however Primer's
machines worked, it was going to be something
that you paid a price for. If you wanted to go
back in time six hours, you had to experience
every minute of those six hours as the machine
sent you back in time. And the science is a lot
more realistic this way because if you could
just jump back 24 hours, you'd find yourself
in empty space. as the Earth would be a day back
in its orbit.
The
threads of the two main characters' lives begin to
fray as overlapping time travel loops begin to shred
their—and the audience's—ability to distinguish
between past, present, and future. Is it possible to
reconstruct a linear narrative from the chaotic events
of the movie's second half?
It
all makes sense; all the information is there—except
for one thing. There's no explanation in the
film of how Granger [a minor character] gets
to a time machine. That's because the main characters
don't have any way of knowing either: it's something
that lies in their future.
I
chose to make it obtuse because then the audience shares
the position of the main characters, of wanting to know
something very badly and finding themselves for the first
time in someone else's past. The two main characters
both react a little differently to this situation, and
that spurs the disintegration of their relationship.
But everything else is in there.
What's
next after Primer?
If
I get to make another film, I think it will be
a romance with no science in it! However, I do
have other stories with elements of science that
I feel strongly about telling. But if I'm fortunate
enough to make all these stories into films,
I would love to be able to go back to math and
do some research.
Nonlinear dynamics is huge for me; it's the kind of thing that
I think is most applicable to where we are right now.
Solving combinatorics and many-body problems—just
understanding the recursive nature of all these types
of problems—is something that I believe is going
to be important to our species' next big step in understanding.