Re-igniting the sun. But with a whole different vibe.
In 2007, Danny Boyle directed Sunshine, an operatic, apocalyptic sci-fi flick pulsing with feverish intensity and morbidity. It told the story of a last-ditch effort by humanity to reignite our dying sun by any means necessary. Stylish, visceral and tonally uncompromising. Characters argue over who should live or die. Some take matters into their own hands, while others take themselves out of the equation entirely. It’s a cult favourite of mine, and of countless other sci-fi fans across the internet. Sure, the third act turns into a weird slasher film, but nobody can tell me that Capa’s jump to John Murphy’s “Adagio in D Minor” isn’t quintessential cinema.
Fast-forward nearly fourteen years, and along comes Andy Weir, author of The Martian, with his latest novel, Project Hail Mary. Another story about humanity’s last-ditch effort to stop the sun from dying and plunging the Earth into a solar winter. Sound familiar?
And yet, where Sunshine‘s nihilism spiralled towards dread, with only the faintest trace of hope, Weir’s novel approached the same cosmic conceit with wonder, connection and optimism. Weir’s talents lie in his ability to craft everyman characters who can solve complex, life-or-death equations while still being delightful goofballs, and that balance is what makes his books so compulsively readable. I’d be lying if I told you I understood half of the physics, engineering or maths, but I certainly could not put the book down for a second. When I misplaced my copy, I instantly Amazoned a second one. I now own two.
The mostly one-man show orbits around Ryan Gosling’s Ryland Grace, a middle school science teacher turned lone astronaut with amnesia, suddenly awoken and burdened with fragments of knowledge that he may be the Earth’s only chance of survival. In a role that seems suspiciously like it was written for the actor (Gosling did read the manuscript before the novel was published), he perfectly balances humour with heart, bringing enough nervous warmth to make the character’s otherworldly intellect disarmingly human. Sandra Hüller’s Eva Stratt is all precision and pressure, a stern but compelling counterweight to Gosling’s more frazzled warmth. Her dry wit and conviction make her Ryland’s perfect sparring partner whenever the film returns to Earth.
Battling for the audience’s affections is Gosling’s co-star Rocky, an alien being that seamlessly blends animation and puppetry. Smartly avoiding stunt casting, Rocky’s nuanced and delightful on-screen presence is brought to life by voice actor and lead puppeteer James Ortiz. While Rocky’s existence was spoiled in the trailers, the marketing wisely did not reveal how emotionally poignant he becomes within the broader context of the film. Witnessing Ryland and Rocky delight in discovering one another is a moving reminder of what curiosity and connection can look like.
That emotional core is all the more remarkable when you consider the staggering amount of creative firepower behind the camera.
Championing Grace as Earth’s saviour? Easy sell. Picturing Ryan Gosling in the role? Got it. Seeing Phil Lord and Christopher Miller bring their directorial and comedic sensibilities to a giant-scale sci-fi blockbuster? Say no more. Drew Goddard adapting the book for the screen? He was Oscar-nominated for The Martian, so great idea. But then you add Spider-Verse composer Daniel Pemberton and Australia’s very own Greig Fraser as cinematographer, and we’re in rarefied air. This is 1992. This is the Dream Team.
All of the production elements fit perfectly next to one another, like Thanos’s gauntlet. Faithful to the book, the film’s non-linear structure cleverly contextualises prior events while making sense of Ryland’s pressing scientific conundrums. The understandable loss of the novel’s first-person perspective is, for the most part, offset through the use of video diaries, which restore some of the interiority sacrificed in adaptation. Goddard’s script elevates Weir’s humour (Ryland is a natural albeit dorky quipster), and the film relies heavily on Lord and Miller signature timing and the exploiting of Gosling’s natural improvisational skills. He’s every bit the scene-stealer he was in Barbie. And Rocky proves to be the film’s heart, not just its hook. He’s also incredibly funny.
As the story continuously shifts from Earth to space, so too do Fraser’s intoxicating technical choices. His use of detuned anamorphic lenses adds a richer, more textured film look than your standard clinically sharp digital image. As the film switches between Earth in 2.39:1 and space in 1.43:1 IMAX, Fraser reorients the frame to reacclimatise audiences to each distinct environment. The visuals, particularly in the space-set sequences, are breathtaking. Of note is Grace taking what he calls a “human moment” while bathed in red effervescent light. He is viewing astrophage through the Petrovascope, but we, as audience members, are seeing a dizzying light show. On an IMAX screen, it’s a wonder to behold.
Project Hail Mary is a triumph by almost every measure. It harkens back to simpler times, when blockbusters were allowed to be earnest and unabashedly sincere. In an era where heroism is so often deconstructed and stripped of its virtue, and where cynical, algorithmically assembled direct-to-streaming products have stagnated both storytelling and cinema attendance, it is refreshing to receive such an intentional invitation to visit the biggest screen possible for pure, unadulterated escapism. It is a joyful reminder that connection across difference still matters, and that kind of optimism feels critical in our world right now.
And yes I can confirm: Rocky is our new and far superior Grogu.
Don’t forget to check out Carlo’s take!
