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“It’s not possible.”
“No…it’s necessary.”
My favorite quote in the film. Describes the intergalactic epic in just two singular sentences.
I finally had the opportunity to watch Interstellar for the first time and the whole thing is. . .breathtakingly exhilarating. Three hours of intergalactic beauty condensed with heart wrenching humanity. Christopher Nolan’s tour de force is like witnessing a dance of Newton’s laws of physics with Einstein’s’ theory of relativity, the screenplay sonata leading to mind-shattering consequences. Time, as it turns out, is the music of mankind’s strength, as well as his ultimate weakness.
This epic film is as stellar as the idea envisioned. Pun intended. Nolan’s cinematographic magic, along with Hans Zimmer’s spectacular soundtrack take Interstellar to the echelons of mankind’s greatest films ever made. A true work of art and enigmatically daring, perhaps some say it is too much for the general audience to handle. I believe it is Nolan’s version of Stanley Kubric's “2001: A Space Odyssey”, with the humanity factor much more profoundly ingrained within the film’s elements.
Although remarkable—literally my favorite movie of all time—Nolan’s masterpiece is not clean of certain observations. The fact that Cooper leaves home so quickly for the stars defies the notion some time passed between the proposed choice and the ultimate decision, and the lack of information the audience is granted before he undertakes his journey is a bit suspicious. But, knowing Nolan and his work, he probably tried to appease the time-constraint of the film. Which is too bad, I could watch an eighteen hour movie if it provided the same intense, aesthetically plot driven experience as Interstellar. Cue the bearded hobo with a large TV.
Finally, when Cooper and his family are trying to get home during the sandstorm in the beginning scenes, there’s an extra character leaving the entrance of the house, Cooper is the last one in, but someone takes off right when they close the door—who is that? Ha. I assume that given the ambitiousness of the plot and elements, the single half a second appearance of an extra passed through unnoticed.
The scenes in space are incredibly well done and a pure joy to watch. The atmosphere can be truly imbibed by the audience with its formidable silence and the brilliant grandeur of Saturn and the black hole. I think I can now rest in peace knowing I almost became an astronaut with all the visions I gathered. The supernatural element of a ghost was tied in masterfully to the space driven idea of time and gravity. And, after it was blissfully joined by the idea of love presented in an unlikely circumstance, I couldn’t help but cry. The output of emotions superseded that of my virility.
The idea, lightly touched during the epic, that it is ourselves saving us from extinction is. . .transcending. We are our own god, which actually ties in with my earlier post Human Defiance. The way Nolan portrays time as the physical form of the fourth dimension is—to my standards—exactly on point and in a way artistically and scientifically correct. I mean, let me rephrase; the protagonist controls the impact of gravity through chords as he were playing on a harp, sending messages across time and space to the daughter he'll never see again in an effort to save humanity, all to the tune of a gorgeous piano melody. Damn it, I had to cry again.
It’s too great of a movie not to shed a tear, and the fact Christopher Nolan presented the story in such magnificent form synthesizing the obscurity of space, the strength of human love, and the supernatural, just proves he is one of the indisputable cinematographic leaders of our generation.
Much love.
—Alexander Helas •
