The Thinking Man’s Blockbuster : ‘Gravity’, Reviewed.

Space ails us moderns; we are sick with space.

 

– Robert Frost.

Alfonso Cuarón’s frightening, astonishing ‘Gravity‘ is an overwhelming cinematic experience, both white-knuckle thriller and stark spiritual odyssey. Over a lean, immersive 91 minutes, Mr. Cuarón’s first feature film in seven years is a work of great narrative simplicity and visual complexity – at once an experiment in blockbuster minimalism and challenge to the limits of modern cinematography that marries the thrills of classic Hollywood popcorn fare with the sense of wonder, abject terror, and profound isolation invoked by the infinite expanse of space. 

As is clear from the stunningly choreographed opening sequence — an unbroken, roughly 13-minute long take that plunges the viewer immediately into the deafening silence of space — Mr. Cuarón and long-time cinematographic collaborator Emmanuel Lubezki have mastered, perhaps for the first time in the history of cinema, the technical brilliance and visionary direction required to bring a sense of verisimilitude to such an alien environment. The Earth’s massive form looms large in the widescreen frame as an orbiting shuttle gradually cruises into focus; is the camera moving toward the craft? Vice versa? Both? Or is it the Earth’s rotation controlling the shot? Are all three variables working in tandem? As perspective seamlessly shifts within the unbroken shot from the unimaginably macro perspective of the entire planet to tight focus on a single dislodged bolt floating towards the screen, it seems that the laws of physics applying to the camera – still extant, bent as they are, in space – have fallen away completely, giving the viewer a sense of the weightlessness of the astronauts alone in the void. 

Unlike Stanley Kubrick‘s ‘2001: A Space Odyssey‘ – to which it has lazily been compared – ‘Gravity’ is more physical than philosophical, rooting a decidedly secular exploration of the divine in a simple survival narrative: two astronauts, the experienced Lt. Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) and nervy first-timer Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) are working on the Hubble Telescope when word comes from Houston (Ed Harris – a respectful nod to ‘Apollo 13‘) that speeding debris from an exploded Russian satellite will soon hit their location. The space shrapnel arrives with vicious force, taking out Kowalski and Stone’s shuttle and presumptive ride home, forcing them to find an alternate way back to Earth.

In this first hail of mayhem – conducted in the complete silence of an environment without the ability to carry sound – Stone is set adrift, ‘off-structure’, tumbling weightlessly over and over whilst cut off from communication with Houston and Kowalski, all the while breathing too fast and using up her oxygen. In modern film, a sense of terror is nearly always driven by the fear of the unknown thing behind the door, which, sooner or later, materialises; here, the fear is of quite literally nothing at all – endlessly spinning into infinite nothingness. The exhilarating weightlessness conjured during the film’s opening minutes is suddenly terrifying, as the camera seamlessly zooms higher and tighter until it seems to enter the rotating Stone’s helmet, granting us a view of the black expanse before her only interrupted by her increasingly panicked breath fogging the glass before her eyes.  In doing so, Mr. ­Cuarón places the viewer inside the frame and subject to the primal fight-or-flight instincts engendered by disorientation – a sensation that doesn’t let up for the remainder of the film.

It would be unfair to reveal either the challenges (to strike fear in the hearts of claustrophobic and agoraphobics alike) or the lifelines thrown to Stone over the course of the rest of the film, suffice to say that Kowalski, played with a gregarious and almost glib heartiness by Mr. Clooney, serves to provide first glimpse at the possibility of survival. Though Mr. Clooney’s charms may seem out of place in this context, his rapport with Ms. Bullock is genuine; never more apparent than during one audacious appearance late in the film where Ms. Bullock – and the viewer – are rapidly pulled through various stages of shock, disbelief, and finally, understanding seemingly on the basis of his star power alone.  Despite Mr. Clooney’s magnetic presence, however, this is Ms. Bullock’s film – at its heart, ‘Gravity’ is a story of one woman’s lost faith rediscovered in the fire of the base survival instinct. Whilst some of the script’s emphasis on the depths to which Stone is alone in space is a little on the nose – this writer is of the belief the audience would have been sufficiently invested in the journey back to Earth without the need for an emotional hook – Ms. Bullock provides a dignified and convincing performance in an extraordinarily physically demanding role that rivets attention through to the film’s conclusion.

Aside from the revelatory cinematography, post-production 3D conversion is uniformly outstanding, as is the magnificent score provided by Steven Price, which quiets and booms in time with the action on-screen so intuitively that it seems an extension of the audience’s own reactions. The coherent combination of these elements across the extraordinarily difficult tracking sequences and single-shot takes is a feat worthy of discussion as a revolution in the way films are made; the entire crew is richly deserving of the Oscars surely already being inscribed by the Academy. It is also noteworthy that in such a bold, forward-thinking production, considerable thought has been put to paying respects to other cinematic exploration into space – ‘Apollo 13’, ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ and others all see their dues across the course of the film. 

Overall, ‘Gravity’ is both magnificent cinematic achievement and fantastic viewing experience. The film is at turns terrifying and awe-inspiring, always absolutely engrossing, and a worthy contender for film of the year. 

5 stars

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