I like movies that take me a few days to process. Just as Inception was essentially a grand scale ensemble heist film, Oceans 11 without the humor, so Nolan’s Interstellar is an unlikely hero flick, Gravity add Star Trek sans quirk.
Wormhole space-time theories pre-date Einstein. String Theory represents years of mathematical probabilities working out into possibilities. Stories of space travel would be bland without wormhole potential, other worlds, the broadening of our galaxy.
Interstellar is intricate. Most sci-fi films feel heavy on the fiction and light on the science. This film makes the not-so-distant potential for a planet in crisis via natural disaster and global warming seem believable.
Interstellar is intriguing. I have always said that a good actor makes us believe that his or her totally unique world is real. Matthew McConaughey does just this. He’s good. We know he’s good. He knows he’s good. However, ironically, I kept waiting for him to get into his Lincoln and philosophize from the driver’s side. Anne Hathaway won me over by underplaying for the most part. Other phenomenal actors got less screen time than deserved: Jessica Chastain, perfectly cast, and Michael Caine, precious.
Interstellar is mystifying. Masterful. Like a sonata, notes on a page build to glorious melody evoking tension, future suspense, resolving with hope. Beautiful.
My one disappointment was the unnecessary humanist turn at the end. Spiritual hope is not ignorant propaganda. Most of the world claims some sort of spiritual and religious bias. Claiming humanity’s potential for evolutionary future and inevitable deification nullifies the mystery, cheapens it somehow. “It must be us. We got us here. We don’t know how, but we’ll get there someday, somehow.” (Loosely quoting Matthew McConnaughey here). Build up and let down. I prefer to hope in the unknown, not in humanity’s potential but in the paradox of hope in the unseen. I guess I choose faith.