A gaggle of us saw Christopher Nolan’s “Interstellar” Tuesday night. I’d like to see it again, but not because it was an awe-inspiring, mind-blowing movie. Certainly there were people in our group who’s minds were blown, and there were lots of jokes about people going to the bathroom and not coming back for 23 years. But for me, I want to see it again so that I might find something in it besides the overt emotional manipulation and something that’ll convince me to not compare it to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001.
I want to give the movie the benefit of the doubt. I want to suspend disbelief. But it’s hard for me. Not because of my formal scientific training, but because I’ve seen much more compelling science fiction in the past. From a story-telling point of view. There were so many contrived plot points, so much forced drama. A scientist who declares that love is an evolutionary thing that transcends reality? A theorist who, apropos of nothing, decides that a “gravitational anomaly” in her bedroom is due to her father caught in some fifth dimensional tesseract? Get off it, Christopher Nolan. That shit is cheap and shlocky and does not follow from the conditions you’ve decided to start from.