Interstellar chronicles the adventures of a group of explorers who make use of a newly discovered wormhole to surpass the limitations on human space travel and conquer the vast distances involved i...
Interstellar traverses singularities to signify the unequivocal power of love. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night”. Humanity faces extinction. Blight plagues the flourishing crops and dust storms envelope the modernised surface. Earth, is no longer habitable. An apocalyptic vision of despair, a species survival succumbing to the hopelessness of one variable that descends tragedies and possibilities in equal measure. Time. It’s running out.
Former NASA pilot, now farmer, Cooper realises this more than most. The inevitability of destruction. But he pushes on, feeding his optimism. With his daughter Murph, they deduce a pattern caused by gravity variations in her bedroom. Binary code for coordinates to a facility destined to become the first gravitational propulsion space station. “We’re not meant to save the world, we’re meant to leave it”, explains professor Brand, whom recruits Cooper to lead an expedition through a precariously positioned wormhole to another galaxy with a multitude of habitable planets. But how? Why? Who created the wormhole? Whose the “ghost” that embedded coordinates within Murph’s bedroom? The team conclude inter-dimensional “higher beings” are guiding them to their destination. Surrounded by a colossal black hole aptly titled Gargantua. Yet the answer, the paradoxical nature of Interstellar, is far more personable than its scientific principles would allude to.
Nolan’s epic space opera is a grandiose tale of love. Love. “Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space”. The bond between father and daughter, savaged by the loss of time that cosmically distanced them to estrangement. Science cannot quantify love. It’s undetermined. A burst of emotion that moulds our own mentality, emphasising the human element against the cold stark backdrop of endless space.
Nolan embeds the emotionality of adoration within a scientifically-driven narrative, bringing spiritual weight to a mind-bending screenplay. Brand’s daughter, Amelia, symbolising that idealism seamlessly, as she believes her lover’s planet, Edmunds, to acquire more positive telemetry in comparison to Mann’s planet which is still sending out positive readings. She is ultimately ignored based on perceived bias. This intellectual conflict between mind and soul is what powers Interstellar, transforming a visual cosmological adventure into a melodramatic opera.
The time dilation, provided by Gargantua, results in Cooper and Murph’s eternal separation lasting longer than it seems. By simply performing a slingshot manoeuvre around the singularity, fifty-one years accumulates, resulting in Murph exceeding her father’s age. Again, time is running out. It is a commodity. An essential resource. Nolan merges the parental ghosts of Cooper’s choice with expendable time, producing an adrenalised pace once they traverse the wormhole. Every minute counts, for it could be a year back on Earth. These rushed aspects cause situations and decisions to become awry, however the principle of Murphy’s Law takes precedent throughout. “Whatever can happen, will happen”.
This complements the impossibly dimensional third act, which attempts to answer several paradoxical questions, including Murphy’s ghost. Much like the ship’s stability when riding through Gargantua, the script just about holds its structure when visualising the tesseract. Undoubtedly complicated to imagine, let alone providing conceivable imagery for audiences to grasp. Yet, for all its dimensional beauty, one important plot point remains inconceivable. The watch. Transmitting quantum data using Morse code by manipulating the second hand of a watch? Surely the data must be enormous in size! And unfortunately it wraps up humanity’s crisis all too neatly. It’s, and considering the insistence of scientific accuracy, unbelievable. A minor complaint which many will rightly overlook.
To transcend love, the performances need to be emotively involved through space. The space between space cannot hinder the emotional output. Fortunately, McConaughey’s enigmatic performance capitalised on the human quality of Interstellar’s script. The tears of timely loss he expels from his glistening eyes, especially when watching twenty-three years’ worth of recordings that his children sent, emanated the power of love. Beautifully understated. Chastain also bringing a vulnerability to Murph’s stubborn personality, endeavouring to appease the pressure in saving humanity. Hathaway, whilst exquisite at representing adoration, felt weak in delivering the clunky science jargon. Her character didn’t particularly demonstrate her worthy candidacy as a member of the team, distancing our emotional investment for her. Also disliked the literal symbolism behind the aptly named Mann, whose yearning to survive shadows his pragmatic intelligence.
The most intricate attribute that Interstellar is equipped with, is Double Negative’s visual effects. Gargantua is intimidatingly gorgeous. Quite possibly the single best visual effect to ever grace seismic cinema screens. Effortlessly blending in with Nolan’s insistent practical effects, particularly the Endeavour. Both Miller and Mann’s planets were landscaped imaginatively to provide variation, and hosted ingenious marionette scenarios for TARS and CASE. Another noteworthy achievement is Zimmer’s euphoric score. Again, one of the best scores available. Orchestral beasts, from pianos to organs, shroud the cosmos in grandeur. It unequivocally holds our attention throughout, harbouring a heavenly aura that stares down at Earth’s destructive hell. Technically, this is one of Nolan’s most ambitious and adept works of art yet.
“Lazarus came back from the dead”, states professor Brand. “Sure, but he had to die in the first place”, replies Cooper. And much like Lazarus, the ability to sacrifice one’s self in a bid to sustain humanity’s survival beyond our own planet, is the resurrection required to power Interstellar. Time. Love. Space. Complex intangible compositions that provide life to the soul. It gives, and it takes. Nolan’s ability to comprehend these three variable and precariously place them into a sympathetic space opera, despite some implausible clunky stumbles, is the ambitious project needed to resurrect imagination.
