Movie Review: SUNSHINE
Sunshine is no Armageddon. Everything that seminal Michael Bay shitstorm was made of is turned on its head and shat upon in Sunshine (and with good reason); at times it seems like the film was made just to be a rebuttal to the horrible disaster pics of the '90s - Armageddon, Deep Impact, and, to a lesser extent, Independence Day. Yes, the plot is similar - some astronomical catastrophe will send the Earth plunging into destruction - but the manifestation of the story is completely different. Save the final shot, Earth is never seen, and the impact of the mission - to save the Sun from dying - is manifested only through eight (OK, nine) residents of the spacecraft sent to reignite our star. There is a larger picture there of course, involving every human being on the planet, but as they are not central characters to the plot, they are never seen and in many ways are not important. The film is claustrophobic at times, despite the truly fantastic shots of the infinity of outer space (just part of the paradox Boyle is communicating here I guess). In its combined claustrophobia and splendor of image, one thinks of Ingmar Bergman - may he rest in peace - a truly exceptional comparison to have made of any filmmaker.
The crew sent to reignite the Sun has been in space for 16 months aboard their ship, the Icarus II. They have what is called a "Stellar Bomb", basically a nuclear weapon the size of Manhattan with the density of the moon (and thus, we discover, its own gravitational pull - but this of course is preposterous, as it would cause the Icarus II to either rotate around it or irrevocably crash into it) that ignites a second star within the sun to thus brighten the Sun itself, saving humanity from its (well-deserved) destruction. Along the way, a dramatically required stop is made at the Icarus I, discovered hovering mere miles from its final destination, a victim of sabotage from within from its captain, only identified as Pinbacker, who has gone insane and regards the Sun as God, believing to have spoken to It (Him?) and learned It (He?) wants him to bring all of humanity to heaven. I sense drama!
The theme of the Sun as God is so juicy and full of possibility (both givers and takers of life, both alternately kind and destructive at times), and had Boyle explored it more, explored Pinbacker himself more, the film could have been elevated to an instant classic. Had he explored the impetus for Pinbacker's insanity, the reasons for his worship of the Sun, the philosophies of religion itself, the film could have become an existential masterpiece the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Pinbacker could have been a priest of sorts, and one or two of the crew could have, in the end, seen into his mind and deciphered his beliefs, and perhaps been pulled inward by them. Instead, the second half of the film becomes a Boo Horror Movie, with Pinbacker as a ghoulie instead of an ethereal priest or even a human being, waiting around corners in the dark to jump out and scare us instead of philosophizing about the nature of God aside from muttering threateningly that he has talked to Him. For a good 15 minutes, Boyle uses dried-up horror cinematography and sound while Pinbacker lurks in dark corridors, hissing and spitting, waiting to kill and maim the Cute Girl onboard. Even the splendor of the early images are forgotten in favor of this rather generic outer-space version of Friday the 13th. Alas, what could have been.
Sunshine is a film of dichotomies. The endlessness of Space versus the confined discomfort of the Icarus II. The searing reds and oranges of the sun versus the cool greens and blues of the spaceship. The bright familiarity of the Icarus II versus the forboding darkness of the Icarus I. In a generic sense, the searing heat of the star versus the required coolness of the ships. More than one crew member is burned up by the Sun's heat, yet one crew member freezes to death within the ship repairing its coolant systems. Do such dichotomies represent the duality of human nature? Perhaps. But with the abandonment of any kind of character within Pinbacker, it seems Boyle abandoned all other existential philosophies as well in favor of the magnificence of the image (which, as noted, he also abandons for a while). The sole purpose of Sunshine is to be beautiful, and beautiful it is, without a doubt, but the subtle philosophies of the beauty of the world, the beauty of humanity, the beauty (and darkness) of God are recklessly abandoned for the stark beauty of the image itself. And while I don't criticize Boyle for making a film of such visual splendor, had he gone deeper within the concept of the beauty of the film - in a way, made it more than skin-deep - the film could have been truly elevated. As it is, it is still beautiful, still genre-bending, still heart-pounding, but without depth, pertinence, and in many ways true meaning. Alas, once again, for what could have been.
Grade: B
Sunshine is no Armageddon. Everything that seminal Michael Bay shitstorm was made of is turned on its head and shat upon in Sunshine (and with good reason); at times it seems like the film was made just to be a rebuttal to the horrible disaster pics of the '90s - Armageddon, Deep Impact, and, to a lesser extent, Independence Day. Yes, the plot is similar - some astronomical catastrophe will send the Earth plunging into destruction - but the manifestation of the story is completely different. Save the final shot, Earth is never seen, and the impact of the mission - to save the Sun from dying - is manifested only through eight (OK, nine) residents of the spacecraft sent to reignite our star. There is a larger picture there of course, involving every human being on the planet, but as they are not central characters to the plot, they are never seen and in many ways are not important. The film is claustrophobic at times, despite the truly fantastic shots of the infinity of outer space (just part of the paradox Boyle is communicating here I guess). In its combined claustrophobia and splendor of image, one thinks of Ingmar Bergman - may he rest in peace - a truly exceptional comparison to have made of any filmmaker.
The crew sent to reignite the Sun has been in space for 16 months aboard their ship, the Icarus II. They have what is called a "Stellar Bomb", basically a nuclear weapon the size of Manhattan with the density of the moon (and thus, we discover, its own gravitational pull - but this of course is preposterous, as it would cause the Icarus II to either rotate around it or irrevocably crash into it) that ignites a second star within the sun to thus brighten the Sun itself, saving humanity from its (well-deserved) destruction. Along the way, a dramatically required stop is made at the Icarus I, discovered hovering mere miles from its final destination, a victim of sabotage from within from its captain, only identified as Pinbacker, who has gone insane and regards the Sun as God, believing to have spoken to It (Him?) and learned It (He?) wants him to bring all of humanity to heaven. I sense drama!
The theme of the Sun as God is so juicy and full of possibility (both givers and takers of life, both alternately kind and destructive at times), and had Boyle explored it more, explored Pinbacker himself more, the film could have been elevated to an instant classic. Had he explored the impetus for Pinbacker's insanity, the reasons for his worship of the Sun, the philosophies of religion itself, the film could have become an existential masterpiece the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Pinbacker could have been a priest of sorts, and one or two of the crew could have, in the end, seen into his mind and deciphered his beliefs, and perhaps been pulled inward by them. Instead, the second half of the film becomes a Boo Horror Movie, with Pinbacker as a ghoulie instead of an ethereal priest or even a human being, waiting around corners in the dark to jump out and scare us instead of philosophizing about the nature of God aside from muttering threateningly that he has talked to Him. For a good 15 minutes, Boyle uses dried-up horror cinematography and sound while Pinbacker lurks in dark corridors, hissing and spitting, waiting to kill and maim the Cute Girl onboard. Even the splendor of the early images are forgotten in favor of this rather generic outer-space version of Friday the 13th. Alas, what could have been.
Sunshine is a film of dichotomies. The endlessness of Space versus the confined discomfort of the Icarus II. The searing reds and oranges of the sun versus the cool greens and blues of the spaceship. The bright familiarity of the Icarus II versus the forboding darkness of the Icarus I. In a generic sense, the searing heat of the star versus the required coolness of the ships. More than one crew member is burned up by the Sun's heat, yet one crew member freezes to death within the ship repairing its coolant systems. Do such dichotomies represent the duality of human nature? Perhaps. But with the abandonment of any kind of character within Pinbacker, it seems Boyle abandoned all other existential philosophies as well in favor of the magnificence of the image (which, as noted, he also abandons for a while). The sole purpose of Sunshine is to be beautiful, and beautiful it is, without a doubt, but the subtle philosophies of the beauty of the world, the beauty of humanity, the beauty (and darkness) of God are recklessly abandoned for the stark beauty of the image itself. And while I don't criticize Boyle for making a film of such visual splendor, had he gone deeper within the concept of the beauty of the film - in a way, made it more than skin-deep - the film could have been truly elevated. As it is, it is still beautiful, still genre-bending, still heart-pounding, but without depth, pertinence, and in many ways true meaning. Alas, once again, for what could have been.
Grade: B