For a world so in tune with the latest scientific discoveries of the day, it comes as a great surprise that our science-fiction films often get so much wrong about science. Barring a few notable exceptions, most contemporary science-fiction films indulge an almost perverse obsession with avoiding scientific accuracy as much as possible. When it comes to modern cinema, it seems that scientific accuracy is often sacrificed in place of drama and story value.
Therefore, it is no small feat that Ridley Scott’s The Martian is a poignant, captivating, and funny film that—for the most part—engages audiences emotionally without sacrificing scientific accuracy. I must divulge that, unlike most science-obsessed writers, I’m not offended on a personal level when directors suggest that humans only use 10 per cent of their brains. That being said, The Martian is a welcome surprise, because it’s a film that reveals how science is not a concept detached from emotion. Indeed, The Martian is powerful precisely because of its character’s understanding of science. If ignorance is bliss, then surely knowledge must be misery.
At its core, Scott’s film, written by Drew Goddard and based on a novel by computer scientist-cum-writer Andy Weir, is a film about a man’s attempts to return to civilization following a shipwreck. The catch: Matt Damon’s Mark Watney, a botanist and mechanical engineer, is stranded on Mars—a planet 54.6 million kilometres away from the nearest terran person, place, or thing. Understandably, Watney suffers a bout of near-crippling depression as a result of his dire isolation, and Damon easily channels Watney’s pain. However, The Martian is not about a man suffering—it is very much a film about the immutability of the human spirit. Parents often suggest that children should get even, not mad. Watney, leaning on humanity’s 100,000 years of physical and technological evolution, puts his mind to his problem and systematically proceeds to prove that humankind truly can overcome any adversity if they simply put their minds to the task.
Watney grows potatoes on a planet whose soil is almost preternaturally hostile to terran organics. He hacks a Mars rover to instant message NASA on Earth. He proves that duct tape truly is infinitely useful twice—both times to save his life. Watney is a one-man science machine, proving over and over again that the only thing humanity really needs to challenge the universe is the careful application of the scientific method. When on Mars, Watney suggests, do as humans always do: Survive.
Shipwreck films typically ask their audience a simple, but loaded question: how will the character overcome adversity? The implication, of course, is that the character can either live or die. When The Martian asks its audience how Watney will survive, this is an entirely literal question. That is to say, using his knowledge – and NASA’s seemingly unlimited scientific and technological understanding—what are the precise steps required for Mark Watney to last long enough on Mars to eventually return back to Earth?
The Martian is a greatly scientific and technical film, taking a significant amount of its 141-minute runtime to explain science to its audience. In other films, this would be an indication that the screenwriter has little faith in his story to make sense on its own. Here, these moments of scientific exposition are welcome and engaging—and perhaps the greatest advertisement for a STEM career. The Martian is a physics, chemistry, and biology textbook come to life; praise to Ridley Scott and Drew Goddard for showing how interesting technicalities truly are.
There is a fact that I’ve avoided discussing, and it’s the notion that this greatly moving drama is actually incredibly funny. Watney is stranded on Mars with very little to keep him entertained—except for a never-ending collection of disco music left by his crewmates. The film’s score fits the script’s dramatic tone, and the movie’s soundtrack produces the story’s greatest moments of comedic affect.
In a particularly memorable scene, Watney records a video journal explaining that there is only one song that is mildly bearable. The tune? “Turn the Beat Around” by Gloria Estafan. The film is filled with such moments of comedy, where a character’s or moment’s seriousness is broken by a subtle layer of humour. Mark Watney’s stuck on Mars, and everyone on Earth is really worried about him, but that doesn’t mean that his outcome has to be cripplingly bleak.
I conclude with a personal address. To my botanist friends: I’m sorry for ever suggesting that your discipline was anything less than the single reason that humankind has been able to survive for over 100,000 years. To my engineering friends: cut the botanists some slack.