So…Sunshine.
It was a weird experience.
I waited until yesterday to see it–the day it closed at Canal Place Cinema. It’s a good thing, too, because I might’ve been tempted to see it again, and honestly, I don’t think I could’ve taken it. And I mean that in the best possible way.
Now, I’ll admit that Sunshine doesn’t have much of a plot, and what little there is wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. To paraphrase a friend of mine: anyone who’s read A Brief History of Time could knock it full of black holes. Goddess only knows what Old Lady Hawking could do herself.
I’ll also admit that the characters aren’t exactly fleshed-out. You don’t learn much about them, and you certainly don’t care about them. They’ve got about as much depth as a Benetton ad (which dates me pretty well, I guess).
On the other hand, I don’t think the plot is terribly important to Sunshine. All you need to know is that the crew is on a mission to the sun; everything else is gravy. And as far as character development goes, any movie that devotes the front page of its website to video clips of each crew member’s death…well, that oughta tell you that you’re not gonna learn about their messy childhood traumas (cf. the unbearable psychocrap of Twister). No, what’s important is how and when each meets his/her end. Essentially, the characters are placeholders, necessary evils. The director just needed a handful of human beings to move the plot along. Any eight reasonably attractive, slim humans would do.
To me, Sunshine is all about atmosphere (literally and figuratively). It’s also one of those rare movies that aims to discuss Big Ideas (e.g. Love, Commitment, Loneliness, Sacrifice, Compassion) and succeeds–not through dialogue, but action. The razor-thin story is propelled by stunning visuals and a relentless, densely layered soundscape. It speaks softly but insistently of isolation and desperation and the luxury of human companionship. To call it a really pretty, really creepy music video doesn’t do it justice, but maybe you get the basic idea.
It wasn’t until the credits rolled that I realized how intense my visceral reaction to the movie had been. My neck, shoulders, and stomach had been in knots since the opening frames, and as the credits rolled, it was…kinda like an orgasm, but without the sex. Which sounds bad, but it was very, very good–and weird. Don’t forget weird.
sturtle [dot] com 