Last night, I went to see the latest space offering, Project Hail Mary, with 
And yet.
Though it plays along a very familiar storyline already - extinction inbound from outer space causes Earth to band together, draws out bravery from a few improbable souls, and reminds us what it is to be truly human - it does so in an innovative way. It's no Interstellar, but it doesn't set out to be. What I liked, for one, is the way it plays into the funnies (and Ryan Gosling can be incredibly charming and funny, which I've always admired him leaning into, when he could just be a pretty Hollywood boy), but also slides smoothly into incredible depth.
There's a scene early on into the movie where Gosling's character holds a mini-funeral for the other dead astronauts on his ship before jettisoning them into space which is incredibly discrete and touching.
It follows many story patterns we already know, and while the characters are well-built, I wouldn't say they're particularly novel or outstanding. In a sense, it brought me back to the movies of when I was a kid, so yeah, I guess Interstellar-era in a way. The hopefulness of it, the sense that for a few hours, we could all just dress up a bit (because people who come to my favorite cinema generally do have a nice outfit, with personality and unique things) and sit together and be like that. The funny moments had the entire (huge) auditorium laughing out loud, while some moments had everyone sniffling. It was a really great evening and a properly good movie, I thought.
But to attribute my enjoyment to mere nostalgia would be improper.
You'd have to be blind not to notice the tension in our present times. It seems everyone with common sense is discussing the looming fuel crisis, while prices are skyrocketing and people begin quietly making provisions. I ask myself how long mine would keep me, keep us, and whatever answer I come up with feels insufficient.
It feels eerily close to 2020, early pandemic times. We are running out of fuel, which means we might soon be rationing out provisions, but also limiting movement. That prospect, to me, is beyond terrifying.
I listened to a podcast yesterday by someone who was very relevant to me during the pandemic, someone who gave me courage to stand up to authority when I didn't think that was possible, and he certainly didn't sound optimistic about the near future, talked about provisions, abuses of authority, and so on. The man is many things, but he is by no means a fool.
It might not be the same. No one can know the future. But it's well-worth it, being prepared, as past disasters have shown. On the other hand, I saw something else on a similar-minded page I follow saying, they could well use the current crisis to impose similar despotic measures, but the real question is... are we going to let them again? Have we really learned nothing?
With that hanging in the background of my mind, I took refuge in the movie.
One difference from my Interstellar days is, though, the movies no longer feel like a story, like a what if. We are, unfortunately, mournfully, living in interesting times. Humanity is constantly under threat, although no external threat would be foolish enough. Why bother. Give us enough time, we're bound to wipe ourselves out anyway, and not because the majority of us is evil. Just a small portion. The majority of us just doesn't stand up.
Another aspect I found interesting, as always in these kinds of movies, is the way governments seem to band together when something threatens us from outside. If only. It seems, in film, the powers that be have no trouble standing shoulder to shoulder to face a crisis, and it's far smarter people than me who've noted that the only way for us to come together would be an external threat.
If only we could do that without the stimulus. Imagine all the things we could achieve. All the progress that's forfeit on account of greedy, narrow-minded men.
Finally, there's a scene where a lab in the military base blows up, an eerie, foreboding sight in our current times. The threat of nuclear blast that lives so close to us... I noted the lack of surprise in myself while watching. Of course.
You could say I'm not in a very lighthearted mood, I don't see how you could be given the current world situation. I take, however, some small comfort in little espaces from reality, like last night's shared enjoyment, or things like:
