At its core, or maybe better, within its orbit, writer and director Alfonso Cuarón‘s Gravity is less of a space adventure than a straight-up homage to the plight of human existence, though surely not quite as murky in the unravelling as what Mr. Kubrick left us gleefully scratching our heads about. This is a film that doesn’t for a second try to hide its visual metaphors and obvious symbolism – ones that track the journey of life itself via the struggles of a stranded woman – in telling the story of Man’s own epic chance at survival. From shades of umbilical fetal states to emerging out of the primordial goo, Gravity ain’t lacking a transparent theme. Thank goodness it rocks doing so.
It begins miles above the Earth as the crew of an American space shuttle tend to some upgrades on the Hubble Telescope. Handling those tweaks is mission specialist Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), doing her thing on her first trip among the stars. Meanwhile, zipping about the shuttle using a Manned Maneuvering Unit (Jetpack, baby!) is mission commander Matt Kowalski (George Clooney), a guy with a whole lot of years on the job telling stories he’s let loose many times before. Things are pretty good until, well, they aren’t (Apollo 13 fans will gets some feel goods by a voice cameo from Ed Harris).
Seems the Russians have gone and shot up one of their own satellites, accidentally setting off a dreadful chain of events that sees a massive swath of space debris speeding straight toward our intrepid astronauts. That’s not good anytime, but now, in the pitch of space saturated with other satellites, it’s end times. The curtain of debris bears down along its path of destruction at terrifying speeds, soon destroying the shuttle and the remaining crew, leaving only Kowalski and Stone to try and make it to the (supposed) safety of the nearby International Space Station before it all comes round again. This does not go well. In fact, things get decidedly much worse.
Despite the clever story and some memorable moments of genuine emotional drama from Bullock, the first takeaway is Cuarón’s remarkable Academy Award-winning direction, delivering a, dare I say, breathlessly beautiful and unique experience that, even on a second or third watch, still yields some truly astonishing zaps to the slack-jawed-generator of your pleasure-seeking brain bits. This is one of the best looking space movies ever made. Heck maybe the best.
That begins with the opening salvo, where we get a steady, deeply engrossing setup to the coming carnage in meeting Stone and Kowalski, each layered under their puffy space suits, chatting together while she works on the Hubble. Earth is just below, humbling the be-cheese and crackers out of anyone watching. What’s so great about this is how sincerely hooked we already are, even before anything really gets started, the sheer sense of physical presence in space almost jarring. It makes the sudden impending wave of deadly debris all the more harrowing.
And that in itself is impressive, the constant threat of a “monster” circle above the Earth that attacks on a rigid schedule, collectively taps into our fear on a cellular level, every few minutes its appearance on the horizon clouding all hope built between swift attacks feeling like a slasher movie villain from an 80s cult film. The mayhem it causes is truly shocking, especially as the filmmakers strive for authenticity, keeping it soundless, save for Steven Price‘s rousing Oscar-winning score. It’s gripping of course, but it’s more so contemplative, the cyclical nature of progress versus setback so inherent in the evolution of our species, it demands attention in the awe-inspiring images the film almost relentlessly throws at us.
I like too how the movie finds its quiet times, with a perfectly-placed moment of reflection as Stone manages to escape for a few minutes and shed her hefty space suit so she can allow herself to float in an exhaustive sleep. The slow evolution from chaos to calm is Cuarón at his finest, shaping Stone into a figure we instantly recognize and clearly identify with, the lighting, tubes, shadows, weightlessness and more defining what Stone herself becomes in the context of what the film is all about. It’s a monumental moment. You’ll feel it.
That all in place, though, I don’t want to strip away the fine work Bullock does. She earned an Oscar nomination after all, which is something considering how the film itself holds the most competition in keeping us distracted from what she’s doing. Given that, she has a mighty task in carrying us along, one that for me, ends up being a wee little unsatisfying, mostly because for my tastes – and I’ll use the same film and actor Cuarón admits is inspiration for the casting of Stone – a movie like Cast Away with Tom Hanks works better. That film has its flaws in the bookends, but while we’re on the island, it’s nearly perfect, and that’s because the relationship between Hanks, Wilson and most especially, the audience, is built on a balance of silence, momentary expressions of emotional release, and an understanding through visual storytelling.
With Gravity, there is a faster pace, and an unfamiliar environment that by its very nature, keeps us at a distance, and so, therefore, Stone remains almost constantly in conversation with either Kowalski or herself, detailing every thought that comes out, and while I applaud Cuarón for avoiding techno-babble in explaining away her actions, he can’t resist having her monologue her way to the the film’s deserving end.
That’s a nitpick of course, and most may find her string of external vocal updates perfectly in step with the calamity of her surroundings as she maintains a cool edge on the disintegration all around her. To each their own. Either way, it doesn’t diminish the impact of the film itself, one that is simply coursing with creativity and obvious love for the art of it all. This is a project of daunting scale that took years to produce by people refreshingly faithful to a story and its message, something so rare these days from studios of this size. It’s of course too small for the living room – or, egads, a smartphone – but even on the home screens makes for one helluva ride.