Sadly, Nolan’s deft hand for putting pieces of a puzzle together does little to help him etch the characters and relationships that are meant to hold Interstellar together. With bigger things to get to, the film bulldozes over the intriguing world-building it creates early on in order to get the mission off the ground ASAP. Despite being arguably Nolan’s most linear film, Interstellar often feels confused when trying to explain what exactly a character is trying to achieve in a given moment (a matter not helped by a dialogue-suffocating sound mix, which places the viewer ear-to-ear with Hans Zimmers’ apocalyptically loud score whenever possible).
Comparisons to 2001: A Space Odyssey have been dogging Interstellar ever since Nolan himself brought the title into conversation, and while the homages are evident (particularly in the finale), the more accurate point of reference is something like Contact, and not simply for the McConnection. Sentiment inevitably trumps science. Anne Hathaway, as part of Cooper’s crew, has to deliver a speech midway through the film that’s so earnestly, embarrassingly romantic in its defiance of common sense and believable screenwriting, you want to give her an award just for getting through it.
But it’s a scene not ten minutes earlier, and in scattered instances throughout the film, that you understand what Interstellar is capable of when its various heady machinations are in synch for even a moment. Oddly, when the film truly capitalizes on the quantum emotional quandaries of its premise, it’s often when one character is merely looking at a screen, reacting to a recording of someone else. As we watch McConaughey’s otherwise cocksure space cowboy grapple with the aftershocks of leaving his family behind to save them, you witness what’s perhaps the finest scene of his entire career.
And then there are those moments of wonder, those awe-inspiring shots that Nolan proves he’s capable of without having to pull wool over your eyes first. Despite costing roughly $1 million per minute, there’s sparseness to Interstellar’s design that Nolan, and cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema, use to indelible effect. A fistfight on a desolate, icy rock is despairing and comic all in the same shot. A blaze of fire ripping through crops recalls the best of Terrance Malick. A silent establishing shot of a spaceship passing by Saturn, in which the only sound you’ll hear is the projector, makes a better argument for film’s preservation than any you’ll read.
Interstellar is a film made to be seen on the biggest screen possible, so as to accentuate the power of its scope. And, in the end, it is a film worth seeing. Nolan’s done just fine for himself by kicking around the shallow end of the emotional pool until now, so it’s not surprising he ends up wiping out when trying to ride the biggest sentimental wave he can muster. That failure alone adds a dimension of humanity to Interstellar that’s worth experiencing.
