Interstellar

Went to see Interstellar

FULL DISCLOSURE: I have a personal relationship with the subject matter, and so in the name of journalistic ethics I must advise I cannot be entirely objective. So there you go.

I loved Interstellar. It spoke to me. Profoundly.

Previous reviews suggested Interstellar was big on loud blasts of classical score music with silent shots of actions in space. I can assure you that only spurred me on further.

The atmosphere of the scenes on Earth is also quite reminiscent of my story Wasteland. It’s so grim it can be a little hard to swallow at first, but by the end through being so precise and determined in its style, it really comes together nicely. It becomes a living world, something I’m aiming for with difficulty writing Legion right now.

With my adoration and reverence for the film stated, I’m going to consider the ending. I’ve heard a few others criticize it, and that’s not totally without merit.

It changes tone. For 90% of the film, a very specific tone is established. It’s incredible. A fantastical and overpowering realm of wonder processed through a brutal struggle for survival. But then it changes. It’s not wrong to, but as a general structure considerably changing tone at the end can be jarring.

There are many points where I considered an abrupt ending might be about to occur. When the main character enters the black hole. When the tesseract dimension disintegrates. When he meets his daughter. At any of those points, I expected boom, credits. And it would have worked beautifully, though I guess that wasn’t the kind of story Christopher Nolan wanted to tell.

Still, the abrupt ending is powerful, and something I’m fond of. A rule I take very seriously is ‘always end strong’. And, well, in another classic rule of horror, what the audience can imagine is always better than anything that can actually be produced. It’s the realm of infinite possibility, and its affecting stuff. End the story on a shock, and the shock lives on in the audiences head, creating imagined endings. It certainly leaves ambiguity, but I’ve always been a fan of that.

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