There’s no gene for the human spirit.
— Gattaca (1997)

Vincent Freeman is born into a genetically engineered society but conceived naturally, deemed ‘in-valid’ due to a heart condition. Determined to defy his genetic fate and reach space, Vincent assumes the identity of Jerome Morrow, a former elite athlete, to join Gattaca’s space program.
Gattaca is the stunning directorial debut of Andrew Niccol, who also wrote The Truman Show (1998). It earned an Oscar nomination for Best Art Direction and a Golden Globe nomination for Best Original Score in 1998.
The film’s aesthetic is striking. Despite its futuristic premise—where genes determine destiny and space travel is routine—the world is rendered in retro-futuristic style.

Costumes and sets evoke a mid-century elegance, and the yellowish tint gives the film a distant, melancholic tone.
The production design is meticulous: the spiral staircase evokes the double helix of DNA, a quiet nod to the film’s themes.

The clean lines of the sets and the minimal interiors feel both modern and stylized, giving the film a timeless quality. It’s retro-futurism done with precision—elegant, distant, and quietly unsettling.
Michael Nyman’s original score is hauntingly beautiful, echoing the tension between human aspiration and genetic determinism.
The film’s most brilliant moment comes during a scene intercut with a live performance of Schubert’s Impromptu No. 3, by a 12-finger pianist (interesting, isn’t it, when this is also technically a gene deficit). Schubert’s progressive music is blended with a three-simultaneous-cut sequence: a live piano performance with somewhat of an unrest romance, a police investigation, and a intense confrontation all unfold in parallel. The crescendo of Schubert’s piece aligns perfectly with the rising stakes, culminating in Jerome’s explosive outburst—“What’s your number? What’s your number!”—just as the music hits its emotional peak.
It’s a stunning moment of synchronicity between sound, image, and performance: emotionally raw and perfectly timed:
At the most magical day of the year, it’s a good time to remember we’re more than what we’re made of.