A good science fiction story can impress us with exciting visions of what the future holds in store for us. A great science fiction story, however, expands our minds with insights into human nature that are impossible to explore in the "real" world.

Solaris is not a story about the future, or space ships, or aliens or any of the conventional, trite cliches that seem to infest most Hollywood science fiction films. Solaris is a story about people. More specifically, it's a love story.

The film takes place in the future and we're never sure just exactly when. What we are told, in the early scenes, is that there is a space station in orbit around a strange planet far away and things have gone terribly wrong. The crew seems to be in some sort of danger and the station's owners would like to have the problem solved. One of the crew members suggests that one of this friends, Chris Kelvin (George Clooney), may be able to help.

Kelvin is a psychologist and it's fairly obvious that he's a lonely man. He lives in isolation and we get the sense that he's even alone when in a room full of people. Kelvin is a sad man and at first we don't know why. Later, we will learn that his wife has died and he blames himself, but for now all we get is a quiet, melancholy character.

From the outset, this isn't your typical modern day science fiction film. Most filmmakers seem to think that science fiction means big explosions and frenetic action. Director Steven Soderbergh, however, is a lot smarter than that. The film starts out quietly and remains subdued throughout. The camera is catching moments here, not staging them.

Solaris is a spooky film, but not because we're told to be scared by some quick, loud music cue. Rather, we're unsettled by the quiet intensity of the film. Things never seem quite right, but not in any sort of obvious way.

There is something about the planet Solaris that is causing the dead loved ones of the crew to come back to life. Only they aren't the real people. They may be aliens or some sort of manifestation of energy. Whatever they are, there is something just a bit off about them. Their reality was pulled from the minds of the people who knew them, so they are incomplete and idealized and in many ways, this makes them more horrifying than any monster.

When Rheya (Natascha McElhone), Kelvin's dead wife, wakes up next to him on the space station, his first reaction is to shove her out of the airlock. When she comes back a second time, Kelvin's reaction is extreme in the opposite direction. He wants to isolate himself in the false reality created by Solaris.

The questions raised by the events of the film are numerous. What is the point? What is Solaris up to? Is the intent malevolent? Though the film provides no concrete explanations, I'll leave the implied meaning for you to discover.

I appreciated the understatement of the film and the boldness of simply becoming a quiet observer of fantastic events. Too many films and too many directors are too insecure in their craft to simply watch a story unfold. Steven Soderbergh is not one of those timid craftsmen. He forces us to watch, and to listen, and to feel.

There are some flaws in the storytelling, particularly near the end, when some of the sentimentality seems almost a little too forced. Yet I'd still rank this as a great science fiction film. It is not simply an adaptation of the book or a remake of the original film, but it brings a new vision to the story that is as valid and impactful as what came before.