NEW YORK — In the desert of big-budget summer moviegoing comes, like fresh water, Neill Blomkamp's "Elysium," a dystopic science-fiction thriller bristling with more ideas than all this year's superheros and action films combined.
Like Blomkamp's first and previous film, the South African alien apartheid allegory "District 9," "Elysium" is a rogue burst of originality — a futuristic popcorn adventure loaded with contemporary themes of wealth discrepancy, immigration and health care. Blomkamp, a 33-year-old South African native with a background in digital effects and a head for sociopolitical tumult, has emerged as a rare thing in today's movies: a maker of science fiction with soul.
"What's somehow gone away from science fiction is that it's meant to represent ideas," says Blomkamp. "It's meant to be this looking glass through which you can look at society a different way."
Whereas most science fiction today is all sleekness and impressive spaceships, metaphor — not exactly the stuff of movie posters — comes first for Blomkamp, who sees his film in the tradition of Fritz Lang's similarly allegorical "Metropolis." Set in the year 2154, "Elysium" finds the Earth a dilapidated slum, with the wealthy living in an orbital space station, a kind of floating Beverly Hills hamster wheel modeled after Syd Mead's Stanford torus design for a space habitat.
Elysium, guarded fiercely by a defense secretary played by Jodie Foster, looms in the sky as an unreachable oasis of high-quality living and limitless health care. (Every home is equipped with beds that immediately cure illness.) The First and Third World divide has gone cosmic.
In dusty Los Angles (shot in a Mexico City slum), Matt Damon stars as a reformed car thief working in a giant factory in grueling conditions, overseen by an infinitely more rewarded CEO (William Fichtner). When a radiation mishap gives Damon's character days to live, he endeavors to reach Elysium at all costs.
"I sit there a lot of the time wrestling with balancing metaphor and also balancing entertainment," says Blomkamp. "Anything I do creatively comes from a place of instinct. I don't wake up one morning and say, 'I want to make a film about wealth discrepancy.' It seems to happen organically."
Los Angles holds particular fascination for Blomkamp, who lives with his wife and frequent writing partner Terri Tatchell in Vancouver. He considers its segregated sprawl, close to the border of Mexico "a milder version" of his hometown of Johannesburg. But his relationship with Hollywood is considerably more at odds.