All right, all right, all right! Interstellar got us thinking: Isn’t science fiction terrific? Or rather, aren’t sci-fi movies about space and space exploration great? That is, when they have complex ideas and don’t pander with guns and unnecessary aliens? (We’re looking at you, Prometheus.) Space, the final frontier… except science fiction isn’t just about intergalactic travel and space cowboys, it’s a whole universe of ideas and theoretical thinking. Science fiction is a genre predicated on futuristic exploration, hypotheses based on current-day concepts, not to mention lavish filmmaking to try and make those ideas comprehensible and even awesome. In honor of Interstellar, we’re talking about the intellectual facets of sci-fi. NOTE: Major spoilers about Interstellar can be found ahead. Proceed with caution. interstellar In Deep Space: Thoughts on Interstellar and Science FictionBlake Goble (BG): With all the hullabaloo surrounding Interstellar ever since last year’s teaser trailer, there’s been tons of speculative theory about what it was going to be all about. You know how Christopher Nolan’s movies kind of attract this sort of thinking. Was this an alien story? A time warp bop? A grand adventure? Well, now that’s it here, we can say it’s mostly the latter two. At least, we think so far, but we’re open to suggestions! Interstellar is another in Nolan’s chuck-ideas-at-the-wall process. Since The Dark Knight Rises, Nolan has acknowledged his willingness to throw nearly any and everything into his scripts to see what sticks. Commercial success, and studios not forcing specific runtimes, will allow for that. However, unlike Rises, Interstellar has a better handle on much more interesting ideas. Rather than cheaply reflecting on contemporary issues, Nolan’s super-charged sci-fi has things to say about famine, complacency, idealism, exceptionalism, survival, and even (ugh) love. It starts with simple ideas and then feels free to explore, literally and figuratively. It knows no bounds in terms of its philosophical boundaries, sneaking a study of humanity as we know it into rockets and killer CGI. That’s right, in Interstellar’s own clunky, mass-appeal way, it’s interested in people and how we connect. That’s Interstellar’s secret weapon: its genre. Science fiction is all about the gaze, which acts as a peripheral entry to deep contemplation and philosophical inquiry. In its purest form, it works much more interestingly than most genres. Blade Runner isn’t about chasing robots, but about challenging existence. Children of Men isn’t just about saving a baby in the future, it’s an allegory for survival. 2001: A Space Odyssey is pretty much the most beautiful film ever made, and it’s about whatever you want it to be about. I choose to see it as a post-future narrative about the dangers of evolving too quickly. Dom, what did you see when Coop and the Lazarus team decided to mess around in that black hole? It was a black hole, right? tars In Deep Space: Thoughts on Interstellar and Science Fiction Dominick Mayer (DM): First off, I feel like Cooper not screaming for TARS in the style of Cast Away‘s Wilson was a missed opportunity. For my part, I saw less a mystery in the vein of 2001‘s climactic trip through the cosmos, esoteric and elusive and containing multitudes, and more a massive statement from Nolan about the glories of what can be found if you push beyond the impossible. Interstellar is a film that introduces a great many intriguing mysteries in its nearly three hours, but the old-fashioned, Spielbergian idealism at its center is ultimately the film’s true purpose. Whether that’s a comment on its overall quality is something that’s going to be debated often in the coming months, but I’m less interested in criticizing criticism than I am in the ideas the film leaves partially to fully unexplored, ideas which resonate on a deeper level than the family-centric plot itself. To me, the film’s most powerful moments come when it truly focuses on the idea of human beings in places that we were never meant to see, let alone stroll about. That’s especially true of the climactic sequence I’m sure you’re referencing, the one in which McConaughey literally dives into speculative fiction and brings the film’s plot full circle. Throughout my viewing life, the sci-fi films that’ve lingered are ones that are, if not necessarily centered around the human element, at least about the idea of what the isolation and unseen territory of outer space would do to the human spirit. For instance, I think of Sunshine, and not only because it absolutely came to mind during Interstellar‘s twist-heavy second act. While Interstellar‘s big cameo isn’t nearly as detrimental to the film as Sunshine‘s slasher-esque third act ultimately is, they’re both films that consider the impossibility of a human body in vistas we’ve only seen through high-powered telescopes. And they both offer incredible scores, whether Hans Zimmer’s church organs or John Williams’ stirring compositions that’ve been used in every trailer looking for extra pathos over the past eight years. But I digress. sunshine In Deep Space: Thoughts on Interstellar and Science Fiction Sunshine also echoes Interstellar (or, perhaps it’s the other way around) in its vision of a dying world. While dystopia has been a major filmic trend in recent years, Interstellar offers a tale of the part of the story that most dystopian narratives only touch upon in flashback or allusion. It’s about the phase between the absolute beginning of the end and just short of an actual end, which is inevitable right up until Cooper passes into the fifth dimension. And in Sunshine, Cillian Murphy is the last man to be able to sacrifice himself for the safety of the human race, and carries the weight of all human history with him as he reignites the sun. To your earlier point about exceptionalism, it’s curious that some of the more interesting sci-fi of the modern era surrounds the idea of human beings conquering the farthest reaches of the galaxy, even if it kills them. It’s the ultimate extension of manifest destiny, huh? BG: You know, there have been some initial gripes that Interstellar’s glorfied expedition panders to American know-how and gumption, but it’s less ideological than it is psychological. Yes, Coop buying into his own destiny is totally rooted in Kennedy’s famous ‘62 speech at Rice University. “We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard,” he said. Goodness gracious, that speech’s utter idealism and optimism is difficult to not get behind. Interstellar’s about the thrill of exploring, to live, to strive, to survive. It’s not necessarily about planting any nation’s flag, but to take those first steps in a scary new direction. Who doesn’t want in on that? robinson crusoe on mars In Deep Space: Thoughts on Interstellar and Science FictionIn Interstellar, the team arrives on a small world that appears to be solely comprised of shallow water. And they easily confuse horizon lines for mountains, when in fact there are enormous waves approaching. It’s striking to watch, and stomach-churning to contemplate. Why would these people risk insurmountable odds and go splashing around dangerous terrains? What’s below, or in this water? Is there ground to walk on? Where’s the land, guys? These astronauts walk around on water because there’s a remote chance that this will be worth it. This world may be habitable, and the trip justified Byron Haskin’s Robinson Crusoe on Mars comes to mind in this respect, because it also had a keen curiosity about foreign lands and hypothetical atmospheres. The movie has some of the most dubious concepts in sci-fi history (the second half reveals that Mars is populated by Native American-types), but it mostly focuses on a lone man trying to stay alive in a whole new world after a crash landing. Should an astronaut give up in a new place because it’s too new? Or should astronauts fight and adapt? That foregrounds the survival aspect of science fiction. It’s one of Interstellar’s heavier-handed and courageously admirable themes. Wince all you want at heroic adventure, but it’s rooted in trying to preserve life, no matter the distance. Interstellar isn’t the first film of this ilk (see: Mission to Mars, Moon), and likely won’t be the last. In fact, Ridley Scott is adapting Andy Weir’s hot novel The Martian for a holiday release next year. The premise? Space exploration to Mars goes wrong, and one crew member is stranded on the red planet. The film’s survivor? Matt Damon. I’ll be damned, he’s creating a pattern here. Interstellar’s survival instincts materialize in numerous ways, not just in how it depicts exploration, but its extreme methods of bending time and space. In a weird way, Interstellar’s fifth dimension scenario plays into staying alive both ways. Although, admittedly, that Escher-like space probably needs Primer-like instructions. DM: It’s funny you mention the film’s bending of time and space, because my biggest grievance with it was the amount of exposition required to get the film to the fifth dimension. And look, I get it. Nolan’s a populist filmmaker, and I don’t mean that in the pejorative in the slightest. He makes dense films for an audience that Hollywood too often assumes isn’t up to the task of appreciating them, and makes them in a linear way that isn’t off-putting. You invoked Primer, and that’s usually my go-to example of a sci-fi movie that isn’t particularly concerned with whether or not viewers can keep up. Frankly, unless you’re a tenured professor with a working knowledge of string theory, I’m not sure that’s even all that possible after a while. BG: If there are any PhD’s reading this with an affinity for string theory, by all means, take us to school. Or rather, maybe take Insterstellar to task. Clearly, Nolan was comfortable with Kip Thorne’s theoretical physics driving the exposition. DM: With Interstellar, while the film tasks every character with wordy, expository dialogue at one point or another, it’s in the service of keeping a conceptually complex movie accessible and reasonably easy to piece together. It’s a movie that could have gone off the rails quite easily, had it not taken the time to do this. The inherent handicap that sci-fi has always had to negotiate is its being limited to both the technology at any given time and to the imaginations of creator and public alike. Like the horror genre, sci-fi offers a window into different audiences’ fears, paranoias, hopes, dreams, and idealized version of what the future might look like at different points over the better part of the past century. Interstellar, for instance, is rooted in the fear of a world where the overuse of technology led to the possible, tangible apocalypse. BG: That bit of dialogue from a school principal and a teacher saying that we don’t need gadgets or engineering is pretty on-the-nose. Or what about Coop’s father-in-law, John Lithgow, talking about “the old days” (it’s the 2050s in Interstellar), and how our day and age will be defined in the future by daily innovations in new technologies. However, that excludes means to save the our planet’s resources, atmospheres, environments, our world’s diseases and physical troubles, our wasteful habits with food. We’re stoked about the iPhone 6, 7, 8, and beyond. It’s not implausible to worry about our society’s slightly tangential steps into the technological future. Not to invoke the clearly drawn themes of Crichton here, but isn’t that the same fearful scenario that drove Jurassic Park or Westworld? Side note: keep an eye out for Jonathan Nolan’s upcoming HBO mini-series of Westworld, one of the most popular sci-fi panics of the last 50 years, about humans versus robots. What happens when humanity is brought into question and control is lost? At least Interstellar isn’t technophobic. In fact, the expedition’s robot, TARS, is a charming monolith, and deliberate visual nod to 2001, voiced by Bill Irwin. Also, ever since The Terminator I’ve been deathly afraid of robots, so thank you for that, Team Nolan. That robot is one of the film’s strengths, because it shows a future making progress while understanding the distinct need to maintain and extend basic humanity. DM: That human element of science fiction also means, especially in narratives that don’t concern aliens as a definitive answer to the question of what’s out there (the terminal point often being “something sentient that isn’t us”), that the speculative version of space is still inherently limited to what’s either been proven or what can be imagined. And while it’s a pleasant notion to consider the imagination as limitless, it’s always going to be informed by the zeitgeist at some point or another. That’s why Inception is tied into the fear of misled memory in an era where identities are split and fudged in all manner of ways via the Internet, why District 9 uses the “prawns” as a means to examine systemic racism, why Children of Men fuses speculation with an all-too-familiar vision of a struggling society that turns the entire world into the third world. It’s how we imagine a possible future, good or bad or some strange grey area between the two. Or even adjacent to one another, based on what I’ve learned about wormhole theory from Interstellar. BG: In the end, narrative hula-hopping and over-explanations aside, I loved that Interstellar drew on so many valuable ideas, and allowed itself to wander around in them. Nolan seems uninterested in authoritatively stamping his ideology on his work, more so in exploring the zeitgeist. David Bordwell, in a break-down on Nolan’s work two years ago, discussed an anecdote about how the director reminded the film theorist of seeing Patton in 1970 and listening to people love the movie as both pro- and anti-military. Nolan’s Interstellar comes from that same vein of mass-appeal contemplation, in spite of all the exposition. Does it make it weaker or stronger science fiction? It’s whatever the audience wants, really. In that sense, at its best and most enjoyable, Interstellar is all about the spirit of exploration. contact 1997 In Deep Space: Thoughts on Interstellar and Science Fiction DM: Which puts it right in line with many of the films we’ve discussed. I’ve never been much for the subsections of sci-fi that verge on fantasy, with laser guns and outlandish creatures and what have you. Call me a humorless killjoy, it’s just my preference. But one more film that I’d like to acknowledge in closing is Contact, a film I was thinking about frequently while watching Interstellar, and not just because of the McConaughey connection. While that film’s ultimate explanation for its mysteries does end up being “aliens,” Carl Sagan’s vision of interplanetary travel is much more in line with Nolan’s, in that they both perceive an excursion into deep space as the ultimate extension of the human mind, and the greatest journey humans can make. In this way, to circle back around to an earlier point, they consider the future of science to be driven by humans, only to be reminded that if there are indeed other sentient lifeforms somewhere out there, they have their own stories, and are not simply the resolutions of our own. There’s something threatening and breathtaking in equal parts about that. TAGS CARL SAGANCHRISTOPHER NOLANDANNY BOYLEFILMJODIE FOSTERKIP THORNEMATTHEW MCCONAUGHEYSCIENCE FICTIONSTEVEN SPIELBERG PREVIOUS STORY Tears for Fears’ Curt Smith: Back in the Big Chair
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 13:36:02 +0000
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