Outer space is a tricky thing to film. The issue by and large for many filmmakers is what not to film, not only for the sake of scientific accuracy, but also to develop an honest visual narrative that immerses the viewer into the anxieties of humankind in the vast infinity of space. Movies like Alien and the second half of 2001: A Space Odyssey belong to this group – ones that utilize a personal sphere of human psychology within outer space. Mexican auteur Alfonso Cuaron’s latest film is one of these – at once, Gravity is a big budget science fiction thriller and an intimate, achingly beautiful meditation on humankind’s place in the great beyond.
The plot is fairly simple. Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) is a brilliant medical engineer on her first spacewalk, and is accompanied by veteran spacewalker Matt Kowalski (George Clooney). When debris annihilates the satellite the crew is working to repair, the two are left floating in space, hoping to reach a nearby Russian satellite by any desperate means they can muster. Running out of time and running out of oxygen, Dr. Stone must improvise her way to safety using the little experience she has in space.
A nearly fifteen minute unedited camera-take opens the film, and sets the tone for the skewered and frantic point of view that the cinematography utilizes throughout its lean 90-minute runtime. The point of view Cuaron and cinematographer Emmanuel Luzbecki opt for is an important artistic decision, as the whirling camera immerses the viewer in Stone’s perspective. As a result, the incredible images of space and the claustrophobia of being aboard a satellite or stowed in an escape pod seems all the more genuine, considering the inexperience of the main character. Without giving too much plot away, Stone goes through a sort of personal rebirth in her crisis, having to confront her own weaknesses, personal and professional, to return to Earth in one piece.
While the visuals, narrative and subject matter are fascinating and well done, some issues do arise in terms of scientific possibility (some of it flat out impossible), and the script itself, which comes off at points as sentimental and derivative. Clooney plays the part of the archetypal suave space cowboy, constituting much of the sexual dimension of the “personal” space between the two characters, but the characterization comes off as hackneyed and ridiculous in some ways. That being said, this barely detracts from the stunning camera work and powerful focalization the film employs. As a filmmaker, Cuaron often walks a fine line between making a personal art-house picture and big-budget commercial item, and Gravity showcases his keen eye for visuals and heartfelt reflections on the human condition.