Does Anyone Care About Space Movies Anymore?

Since the 1950s, space has embodied some of film’s greatest achievements. With ten space movies in the “IMDb Top 100 films” and an almost entirely different ten space films being among the fifty highest grossing blockbusters of all time, filmmakers and audiences alike have historically invested much of their time and attention into extraterrestrial movies. Astronomy and film have become so culturally intertwined that a cinematic lens is almost automatic when humans think about space. Apollo 13 the film, for example, has functionally become the automatic framework of thought for non-astronauts imagining space missions and how they operate. Recently, however, this category of film has been on an immeasurable decline. To be clear, I am not referring to science fiction films. With Denis Villeneuve’s Dune films, James Cameron’s Avatar series, and Bong Joon Ho’s Mickey 17 alone, the past few years have seen no shortage of supernatural movies that happen to take place beyond earth. The films I am concerned with are almost entirely grounded in realism and fundamentally feature space as a prominent figure in the narrative or aesthetic storytelling. Such feature films, admittedly, are not going extinct by any means. Compared to the rate at which they used to be explored, however, their production has slowed drastically. From 2013 to 2016 alone, Gravity, Interstellar, The Martian, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, and Star Trek: Beyond all saw mainstream releases. While some of these films include unrealistic elements or are set mostly on one planet, the space that surrounds each of their stories is integral. But the 2010s were merely the tail end of this cinematic phenomenon.

When the Space Race began in 1956, the United States and the Soviet Union began clashing in ways that changed the world's political, social, and scientific landscapes forever. Film’s ability to reflect society is arguably the reason it has remained such a culturally significant artform for over a century. So when humans, as usual, were interested in what they had no understanding of or control over, cinema offered an explanation. Individual filmmakers presented their perspectives on space in ways that grew to be either widely accepted or dissected for years to come. Namely, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey created a foundational language for how the cosmos would look and feel in film. Although it was made in 1968, Kubrick’s masterpiece still informs how we view space today. In long, still shots 2001 creates a crystal clear vision of a grandiose world among the stars. One can almost hear the film’s signature score when looking into outer space, even from Earth. Additionally, the philosophical implications of the robot, HAL, being the antagonist of the movie has been the genesis for endless discourse on the cost and dangers of progress for humanity. 2001’s obvious influence on the entire Star Wars franchise gives further perspective to what one visionary can do for humankind’s outlook on the unknown. And what is less known than space?

Yet, perhaps most perplexingly, feelings of confusion, awe and even terror in an infinite abyss are seemingly always overcome by loneliness. Regardless of the genre or the varying degrees of philosophical investment, I always find the unrelenting feeling of being alone in the unknown the most powerful aspect of space films. That is what mainstream media is letting go of as it lets this genre fizzle, a universal loneliness that is singularly depicted by the universe itself. It is something every human has felt, that they are alone in the dark, with no comprehension of the void around them and no one to save them. Seeing this literally portrayed onscreen evokes a unique catharsis that is central to such films. What is Gravity without the isolation that surrounds Sandra Bullock’s character in the form of space? What is Interstellar if Matthew McConaughey’s character does not have lightyears of distance between him and his child? Space is a medium that masterfully executes a feeling. The question then becomes: is this feeling exhausted of originality? Is the unknown too investigated that it has now become known? Should anyone care about space movies anymore? While I think the importance of these films can not be overstated, I would much prefer the decline of this genre to it becoming trite. If modern films trying to recreate this feeling were to retroactively make previous films seem any less potent or impactful, it would be devastating. Take dystopian movies, for example. The genre’s goliath pioneers like Blade Runner equate to 2001 in their untouchability. The Hunger Games films, however, are more similar to 2010s space movies, in that they began a contemporary renaissance within the dystopian genre that eventually led to its vapidity and self-destruction. Today, the series is often lumped in with other films from the 2010s dystopian craze (i.e. Divergent, Maze Runner). I would argue that The Hunger Games and its sequels are genuinely competent pieces of cinema, while I would not say the same about its successors in the genre. This franchise, however, has been critically underappreciated because of the movies it is associated with. Continuous mass production of space movies might, unfortunately, have a similar result. The value of a space as a backdrop for psychological and emotional exploration of loneliness cannot be discounted, but it might be time to move forward if the only other option is banal recreations of past greatness. There is so much to make movies about, and there is so much we don’t know. Film is naturally forced to reflect the unknowns of our world, and it is at its best when it presents a fresh reflection. If that means moving on from space films, I can accept that. As long as cinema is pushing boundaries and I have my old favorites to rewatch, I am happy.

"The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science." — Albert Einstein