Coma (1978)

          One of the few genuine Renaissance men of 20th-century popular culture, Michael Crichton was a doctor-turned-novelist who leveraged his literary success for a lucrative film career as a screenwriter and occasional director. Every facet of his professional identity came together for Coma, his biggest hit as a director. Set in the medical milieu, the thriller features Crichton’s signature style of provocative science fiction, even though he didn’t originate the story. Instead, Crichton adapted a novel by another doctor-turned-author, Robin Cook. Yet Crichton’s distance from the material was probably a good thing, since his characters and plots often fell short of his wonderful ideas. Perhaps owing to its mixed authorship, Coma has one of the smoothest narratives of any of Crichton’s film projects—until it falters at the midpoint, devolving thereafter from smart pulp to serviceable escapism.
          The heroine of the piece is Dr. Susan Wheeler (Geneviève Bujold), a surgical resident who uncovers a bizarre conspiracy. It seems an abnormal percentage of healthy young patients at Boston Memorial Hospital fall into inexplicable comas during routine surgical procedures. When Susan’s friend Nancy (Lois Chiles) becomes the latest victim, Susan investigates—despite stern warnings from her boss, Chief of Surgery Dr. George Harris (Richard Widmark), to stop snooping. Susan doesn’t get much support from her on-again/off-again boyfriend, ambitious resident Dr. Mark Bellows (Michael Douglas), who concurs with Dr. Harris’ appraisal that Susan has succumbed to grief. Alas, Susan’s fears prove justified when she unearths an insidious connection between Boston Memorial and a mysterious facility called the Jefferson Institute. Before long, the movie accelerates into action-thriller mode, with a hired killer (Lance LeGault) chasing Susan to keep her from sharing the explosive truth she’s discovered.
          Layered with details about the medical profession that give a strong sense of credibility (to the first half of the movie, anyway), Coma is a fairly tight film with carefully modulated suspense elements. The character work is rudimentary, and costar Elizabeth Ashley, who plays a nurse at the Jefferson Institute, merely delivers exposition. As for Rip Torn’s role, that can’t be discussed without getting into spoilers. Compensating for its dramatic shortcomings, Coma has a great look, with interesting settings such as the tunnels beneath and within a hospital, and Bujold’s chilly screen persona keeps things from getting too melodramatic. (Had the script stuck the landing, one imagines this project could have attracted Jane Fonda, who would have upped the intensity considerably.) Douglas contrasts Bujold’s reserved quality with hot-blooded leading-man charisma, and Widmark, as always, makes a memorable prick. (Watch for future stars Ed Harris and Tom Selleck in small roles.) Notwithstanding myriad scenes in which characters do infuriatingly stupid things, Coma does right by its memorable premise with a consistently creepy vibe and some highly effective visuals.

Coma: GROOVY