More than once I was reminded of Contact’s Ellie striking the outer limits of the universe and breathlessly declaring: “They should have sent a poet.” In dispatching Nolan beyond the stars, that’s exactly what they’ve done. Crucially, for all their astro-maths exposition, the constant in both stories is neither time, space, nor gravity, but love. Intergalactic portals are breached, timescales bifurcated, science and faith reconciled. From such discoveries are missions launched, voyaging across time and space at the apparent instruction of a superior intelligence offering cryptic hands across the universe.
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In both movies, it is these daughters who detect the first stirrings of an “alien” encounter: Ellie Arroway (Jodie Foster) identifying recurrent sequences in the white noise of interstellar radiation in Contact Murph (very affectingly played in her younger years by Mackenzie Foy) spying morse code in poltergeist disturbances in Interstellar. Adapted from a novel by Carl Sagan (with signature input from Interstellar’s theoretical physicist Kip Thorne), Robert Zemeckis’s 1997 epic similarly centred on a daughter crying out to a lost father whose soul seems to abide somewhere across the universe.
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While it’s temptingly easy to cite 2001 (anything invoking a dimensional “star gate” triggers rarely positive Kubrick comparisons), the movie that hangs over Interstellar like the dust cloud atmospherically engulfing its earthbound scenes is Contact, with which it shares much more than just leading man McConaughey. What follows is a dizzying mash-up of The Haunting, Slaughterhouse-Five, Silent Running, Event Horizon and the director’s cut of Aliens, with the inverted time shifts of Inception (an hour on a distant planet equals lost years back on Earth) thrown in for extra emotional heft.
Meanwhile, Right Stuff-style pilot-turned-farmer Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) is prompted by ghostly forces to lead an exploratory mission through a wormhole beyond the rings of Saturn, abandoning his family in search of a future for all humanity. Harking back to Edwin Balmer and Philip Wylie’s 1933 novel When Worlds Collide (a Depression-era text brought to the screen by producer George Pal in the 1950s), Nasa builds a “space ark” – a giant ship that will take mankind to a new home in the stars, provided the “problem of gravity” can be solved by avuncular Professor Brand (Michael Caine). We open in a dust-bowl dystopian future where blighted food supplies are dwindling and inhabitable Earth is dying. Seamlessly amalgamating his own semi-formed stories about space travel with a script that his brother Jonathan (“Jonah”) had been developing for Steven Spielberg, Nolan’s long-gestating magnum opus is a futuristic fable firmly rooted in the age-old traditions of sci-fi. As a diehard Nolanoid, I found myself largely enthralled, often amazed and occasionally aghast. Yet while the film’s massive gravitational pull guarantees astronomical box-office returns, fans of Nolan’s finest works (Memento, The Prestige, Batman Begins, Inception) will long for more narrative rigour as raw science, rich sentimentality and rank silliness battle for the heart and soul of this very personal project. The good news is that this flawed but frequently awe-inspiring movie about wormholes and black holes does not implode into a dark star of disappointment if it’s spectacle you want, then Interstellar delivers, particularly when viewed in Nolan’s preferred 70mm Imax format. The title of Christopher Nolan’s behemoth space epic says it all – a grandiloquent declaration of scale that smacks simultaneously of ambition and hubris – like Titanic, both the ship and the film.
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