The Film…
The Players…
Chris Pratt, Jennifer Lawrence, Michael Sheen, Laurence Fishburne and Andy Garcia (for about 30 seconds).
The Plot…
The Avalon, a starborn luxury liner has over 5000 people in hibernation, She’s traveling from Earth to the planet Homestead II, a rich planet full of endless possibility. It’s a 120-year long journey, however.
After only 30 years en route an asteroid collision causes a malfunction that awakens mechanic Jim Preston 90 years too early.
Consequently, his loneliness consumes him. If only he had a friend.
Perhaps Jim may find—rouse—one.
The Rant…
Let’s face it. We all need to get away from it all. A vacation once in a while (by that I mean ASAP). Be it a trip to the beach, camping out in woods, or even just turning off yer damned smartphone. TikTok can always wait. Dumb dance vids will still be there when you get back. Or not. Cross a few fingers.
A few weeks ago bored at work I asked my fellow conscripts if money was not an issue where would you like to travel to? To get away from it all? For real. I got a lot of cool answers, and none of them bad. Japan, Ireland, locked up in their apartment with their PS5 and the Ring properly charged, with a vat of cheesy poofs at the ready. Everyone had a cool idea, despite the poofs. Hate those things. They’re like shrimp with scabies.
Anyway someone commented, “It’d be cool to travel into space, like a vay-cay on the ISS (that was me, duh.) Just a week in microgravity, bouncing about gazing out the ultimate telescope. Hanging with astronauts from all stripes and many nations (I’d sweat the Russian for the ideal borscht recipe. Mine tastes like borscht). However I had heard of the downside of this ideal vacation, despite truly getting away from it all. Sometimes the bubble gets busted too soon. Or too late.
Sure, it would be b*itchin’ to hang out over your high school that invited chronic social awkwardness and endless swirlies. But after a while bumping around with eight other people that share a lifeboat the size of a Winnebago, well, things might start to drag. As the old adage goes, “Getting there is half the fun!” You got there, good job. The other half? Well, best pick and choose. Your options are kinda narrow.
Here’s a story: In ’05 I was lucky enough to spend 10 days in Hawaii. Everything you’ve ever heard is true. Including the fire dancers, feral chickens and gorgeous beaches. Yes, feral chickens. As laid back as the islands are, avoid the chickens. They would congregate near the local meth lab. Not everything was always aloha, but everything else was pure aloha (which is a versatile f*ck to us how-lies). I’m approaching a point here. Here, have this snack size bag of Cheetos and be patient you, or else I release the chix.
Maybe you see where I’m headed. After days of sunshine, warm breezes, trying to surf and failing gracefully I began to tire of it all. Every day was the same beautiful day. I checked the Weather Channel to compare my vacation to the climate back home. On Kaua’i it was 70 degrees and light breezes. Back home it was in the upper 40s and had been raining for days. This was in March. I should’ve considered myself lucky, and I was. But sometimes one gets tired of paradise when it’s paradise all the time. Towards the end of the trip I was glued to my GameBoy Advance SP playing Pokémon Yellow. Again. I felt like an ingrate, but I had had enough fun in the sun (until I had to endure the 12 hour red-eye back to the mainland. Careful what you wish for and all) and the pristine beaches felt all the same.
Years back I read this article in The New York Times about the possible reality of interplanetary travel. Talk about getting away from it all. The writer explained that with NASA’s present technology it would take 5 to 7 years to reach the planet Mars, and that’s not even round trip (you reading this, Elon?). The writer explained that may be the greatest threat to such a mission would not be a failure in life support, some navigational error or even the craft being holed by an asteroid. No. The biggest threat to completing the mission en toto would be boredom. One’s mind wandering. Lack of focus. Accidentally jet one of your space buddies out of the airlock. Sounds silly? Perhaps, but the article was sober and not exactly cautionary. Think about it. What may had happened to you on a long car drive, miles of farmland and you get a case of the sleep dips? Consider the outcome if you were gallivanting off to Mars?
Sounds funny huh? Even by my own boredom after a week on paradise I became way too concerned how Pikachu fared against any rival beasties. Consider a 14 year red-eye with no Wi-Fi? How stupid really, but regard that potential trip to Mars. I gave in by the last few days in Hawaii. The beaches were sandy, the waters a crisp blue and I spent the winnowing evenings all the local bar with their obscene prices. I caught a Lapras.
Being bored does do a number on your perspective. You drift. You zone out. You may bump into things. You need an anchor. You need to steer clear of that airlock. You must acquiesce. With getting away from it all, where to go? Hawaii? The ISS? The Avalon? Truth be told no matter what your getaway is you can’t get away from yourself. It’s a tough pill, and sorry to mention anything about swallowing. Best just embrace the anxiety, the uncertain, and the possible case of the crazies.
Non compos mentis…
The Story…
The space luxury liner Avalon is on its century plus path to Homestead II. It’s a pristine Earth-like planet, clear from all the man-made trappings that have so harmed our embattled homeworld.
Homestead II has been colonized for maximum pleasure and production. A place to start over, to create a new life. That’s what technician Jim Preston (Pratt) signed up for. Apply his craft towards world building. Noble idea.
Huwever along the way Avalon‘s long voyage something goes awry. Jim is woken up from his hypersleep. And only him. He is one of 5000 passengers en route to Homestead II. He was supposed to be woken 4 months before docking…which is 90 years away. He now finds himself alone, confused and desperate for companionship beyond the android bartender Arthur (Sheen). After many weeks of grousing Arthur suggests to make the most of Jim’s circumstances.
One day one of the hypersleep pods catches his eye. A young woman named Aurora (Lawrence) has a wonderful profile. Might be an ideal friend. Perhaps adrift like he feels. But the Avalon is meant for to wake up 4 months within landing on Homestead II.
Right. 90 years left on the clock, and Jim is desperate. He’s also a skilled technician. Aurora’s pod could be coaxed awake. Sometimes your bartender gives better advice than your doctor.
Sometimes not…
The Breakdown…
Halfway through our viewing of Passengers K asked a very interesting question: “Where does time fly faster? On Earth or in space?” Well, Einstein claimed that time is relative. Depending on your current circumstance time either drags or flies. I think I understand that theory. All of my years as a line cook time was like some sort of demented pendulum. Maybe you’ll get this if you’ve ever had such a job. Follow me.
Work time in restaurants are always measured in flux. Depending on the time of day or night one can predict how fast or slow work carries on. It not just for cooks BTW, but day traders, doctors, teachers and any other job that demands “the clock is the boss.” That was a fave maxim of one of chefs in culinary school, and damn was he right. Regarding time that is, and not to wear hotpads but was remiss in seasoning his food first. Like I implied it was all about time management, and how it tends to get away from us. You think all your ducks are in a row, and then pow.
So K invited the curious theory. Dig. Where does the time go? Does it depend on where or when? Or whom?
Humans are a social species, not unlike a pride of lions or your pet doggo. Us mammals we. Along that metaphor we work well in groups. Mostly small groups, especially considering families (except that Dugger clan. They are nuts and are some sorta inbred cult). Despite how much our family members can drive us nuts we need each other for some relative insight. Hell even the hermit cloistered away in their hovel needs unwelcome others to justify being reclusive. It’s all relative, and like time ike K accidentally inquired about Albert’s explanation of how the fourth dimesion works. Or sometimes doesn’t. I swear that most laborers—not workers mind you; there’s a difference—are keenly aware of time and how it flows. From my past experiences when business is steady or even breakneck time flies. You look up at the clock and it’s 7 PM. Five minutes later it’s 11 PM. The opposite is true on a slow shift. You glance at the clock and it’s 7 PM. Three hours later it’s 7.05. It’s ridiculous I know, but doubtless Albert would nod his head, even if he never worked the line.
So since time is relative as I agree it flies faster in space. Just go with that, for now.
Recalling the Way Way Back installment, even the kindest of getaways can morph into a grind. The days start to drag on and the vay-cay begins to feel like pulling hard time. Director Tyldum did spot on illustration of not only being ostracized, but also a desperate, if not dark depiction of isolation. Dark isolation, how lonely it may come to pass. That isolation and all those miles—lightyears—may drive one to the edge. That’s what the first act of Passengers delivered. Jim was the victim of such loneliness, and any distraction to take his mind of his circumstances ultimately fails. This feeling of isolation drives most of the plot (if only in the background), and it was palpable. Pratt looks guilty of something (his hangdog spoke volumes); he didn’t choose his situation, and having a devil of a time dealing with it. Poorly. All the sushi in the galaxy can’t assuage his woes.
Isn’t that great line of BS or what?
Let’s focus on that tack (not the BS part). At its heart Passengers is a character study in how solitude—claustrophobia, really—can affect one’s emotional frame of mind. Lots of movies come to mind that follow this design. Cameron’s The Abyss, Scott’s Alien, Tarkovsky’s Solaris. All these flicks have isolation as muse. Passengers’ story seems as familiar, but with the twist of the pristine, luxurious space liner Avalon as everything a luxury cruise could offer, however laid waste in our protag’s mind. Those above films were dank, unforgiving and had low headroom. The Avalon was cushy, with all modern conveniences. It drove solo Jim bonkers. I mean, its one thing to be alone, time crawling or speeding and probably messing with your perception. It’s another thing to be invested in that loneliness. That was defiantly Tyldum’s reflection with Passengers. It was not an S/F movie. It was a character study, despite the open bar and mastering 3-D Dance Dance Revolution. En toto Passengers was an exercise in what happens when one is alone too long. Lonesomeness, not alone time. Jim had enough alone time. For the first act Jim was all about being alone but not inviting aloneness.
Harlan Ellison, the late, great writer known best for his S/F stories made a few appearances here, if only as metaphor. I’m quite the fan of his, and most of his terrific tales makes for a nice afternoon by the fireplace. However great his fiction was—is—often took more of a shine to his non-fiction stuff. Movie reviews, very candid newspaper story drenched in social commentary and even some restaurant reviews.. While watching Passengers one of Ellison’s entries in either his An Edge In My Voice or Hornbook essays. Both are a mix of op-ed pieces for the Los Angeles Free Press combined with something that resembles a journal. Both very engaging books, which I often return to for sh*ts, giggles and some chin rubbing. I couldn’t locate the exact text, so I’ll best illustrate his point here. As much as I enjoy his writings I’ll be damned to scour over 500 pages to get to my point I felt adjacent to the world of Passengers. This particular Ellison essay presented a query that spoke volumes to me regarding Tyldum’s meditation on the ills of too much time on one’s hand. Sometimes the simplest ideas pique your interest. Occasionally they blow your mind.
He had an astute theory considering the difference between “being alone” and “aloneness.” One is passive, the other proactive. Reading a book. Watching a movie. Messing around with the Nintendo. Or even idling through that week’s new comic book haul while enjoying a steaming mug of Kenya AA coffee brewed through the French press (busted). That’s aloneness, simply wanting time to yourself to do just putter around and not answer to anyone or anything. Pleasant, solitary things that you and you alone appreciate. These things are choices, lovely things that are to be cherished because you want time to yourself. Just me and Captain Marvel. Playing the Sam & Dave LP I recently won from eBay. Lazy stargazing. That’s the good stuff. Chosen time on your own terms.
Being alone is depressing and sinister. You did not choose your situation. Your are a victim of your circumstances. Being alone is antisocial, and oft not of your picking. If you’ve heard the Police’s “Demolition Man” you may get it. Being alone means alienation, ostracized and too much time on your hands. This was Jim’s predicament, dropped into an environment he never chose. That device made for a rather odd example of being all by oneself and dismissing others as a distraction. All Jim wanted in Passengers was basically a new job and a start fresh on Homestead II. Paper moon against an empty galaxy. Wistful, seductive, snakelike, dreamy and ultimately undone.
I keep hammering on this theme because in the endgame it got all twisted with Passengers, and that twisting was truly a shame balanced against Tyldum’s thoughtful biopic The Imitation Game. That film documented computer scientist Alan Turing helping the war effort against the Nazis. Genius Turing was conscripted by no other than Winston Churchill to crack the uncrackable Enigma codes. Turing was offered all the necessary resources to succeed in this mission, but despite all the tech and a willing team of peers he’d rather go it alone. That was the rub.
Turing was an outcast in the scientific community…and he liked it that way. It was almost that Turing would only get satisfaction not from breaking the Engima, but to prove he was worthy of the job. was also a meditation on solitude, but that movie hinged on our hero choosing aloneness, if only as an affront. That film was an fine example of aloneness, and it well illustrated why Turing was a recluse. Passengers at the end of the day was rote. The perils of being alone invited Jim’s own Devil’s playground with his itchy, idle hands. Coping with isolation in a rather formulaic way. Engaging thanks to the acting, but that was about it. More about that later.
Both films wrestled with the yin/yang theme of isolation, and were both directed by Tyldum. I ran Imitation up the flagpole months ago and then saw Passengers and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. The former informed the other. Like Tyldum’s early flicks Buddy and Headhunters had a thread of solitude running through them. Such spilled over on to Imitation and Passengers. Being alone comparatively can be pretty sticky stuff according to Tyldum’s muse. Almost too sticky here.
What got really sticky here (and even more heart wrenching) was Passengers’ gentle pace. I’ve said in the past that a movie’s pacing is key inviting my attention or regarding a flick as waste of my time. She’s sometimes a feckless b*tch. Pacing should flow. Bounce along productively as the movie’s plot required. Passengers‘ pacing indeed flows. Creeps is more accurate. All is calm and all is bright and Jim is a slow burn. Ready to freak out at every moment. To say again we have a Shining-like vibe here where at every turn Jim might have a spectre to confront. Maybe his own. In sum, that gentle vibe got nervous slowly but surely. Discomfort. Gimme the bat.
Oh. Did I mention Jennifer Lawrence, the silent Maguffin? I felt she played against character here. Mostly. From what films I’ve seen she portrays a no-nonsense alpha female. Silver Linings Playbook, American Hustle and even the Hunger Games series, she plays nobody’s fool quite well, with humor, grit and wit. Here her Aurora is almost willowy and ignorant of her station in life (didn’t help that Jim REDACTED for his own ends). Wistful. Lawrence is cold as ice, and very naive. To wit it took Arthur spilling the beans to let the scales fall. She was wallpaper here, and not very appealing against her stronger roles. The pixie non dream girl. Despite the circumstances she was way too reactionary. Didn’t help that Jim essentially conned her for the second act. Where was the spark, the fire? The attitude we expect and love about Lawrence? Muted, and rather disappointing. I suspect she made the best of the resources she was given. There was an awkward yet endearing chemistry between her Aurora and Jim, but wringing hands can only go so far. I kept Lawrence’s blip on this screen short and short. I just expected more from her. Oh well.
K was spot on when she said consistency is key, especially with S/F movies. I appreciate it when films like Passengers do their best to be scientifically accurate. There are always minor goofs here and there. EG: how did Frank Poole of the Discovery manage to “float” to the antenna array without the aid of a MMU? Even a classic like 2001: A Space Odyssey had its flubs. Not to mention a HoJo’s being on the space station. It was the 60s after all. It’s the 21st Century now. Barring the advances in F/X you can’t cut a satisfying S/F flick alone on ILM, especially when consistency is concerned. There were too many times with Passengers that the pixelated ropes dragged me away from the story. Scenes like the spacewalk, double dancing and whatnot. I figured such was to create chemistry between our two leads, but as nice as the execution was it felt so forced. Moreover formulaic. But those scenes looked cool. What you see was what you got. Not get, got. Sticky and dry.
On the flipside all that empty luxury made Jim’s being stranded all the more distressing. All those sleepers. Water, water everywhere. Everything comfy, save when it constantly reminds you of defiantly of how you are missing out. That and the slow clock ticking in the background gives us a little edge of urgency. I say edge because all the while the countdown to infinity is always in the background. No matter what Jim is trying to preserve his meager life as long as possible. It was alluded that Jim has always been afraid of being alone. Left behind. He felt alone on Earth and hoped to find purpose on Homestead II, but only on his terms and as far as f*ck away as possible. Sounds like some pipe dream, and it is, but it keeps us guessing about the how and when may work or fail. In essence mortality looms over in Passengers, if only in the back our heads.And I must say the sets were marvelous. Beautiful even. Both inside and within the ship looked like what an interstellar spaceship should look like. Plausible, and a part of those sets become a character in and of itself. Dig this. Avalon is scrumptious. As the Brits say: all mod cons. The best example I can use was the Enterprise-D on Star Trek: TNG: it was a floating mall. And malls are designed to comfort people’s needs for solace, and I ain’t talking about the food court. The ship has everything Jim could need for comfort and solace, but it only works for a limited time. Recalling my Hawaiian adventure, the center won’t hold and you get antsy. More like desperate with Jim. That spacesuit scene? Heartbreaking, and one would think the airlock would have some sort of fail-safe. It was a little on the nose, but I allowed it. Made the impact.The Avalon was sound. Again, the sets were amazing. The ship looked like how an interstellar ship should look, especially the nice touches. Again with TNG’s Enterprise-D: the Avalon had a “deflector dish” shoving space debris away on her voyage. Non-essential functions were powered down to save resources. The spiral, rotating arms gave the illusion of gravity, and when they went on the blink the environment reacted in kind. The design of the Avalon, however was snakelike. Tempus edax rerum. Alluring. The way to Eden. A gorgeous trip to freedom that soon became a canard. At least for Jim, our somewhat overwhelmed fixer. So the speak. K suggested that Jim needed some positivity. Damn straight, and trying to crack open the bridge was a mission of futility. Tyldum really ramped up being infuriated at some existential crisis aboard the Avalon. Hopelessness saturated the movie.
Tell those 4998 sleepers what they didn’t win, Rod. All this on a pleasure liner, prepared and structurally sound as trap. The Avalon is headed for denial. Look how those commercials come across, and regard how barkeep Arthur REDACTED when Jim asked him a non-robot question. Wait. Robot. And all this on an interstellar Love Boat. Paradise waits as scam. No one truly gets out alive. Grim yes, but read between the lines won’t you? Passengers was attempting S/F drama here. It worked in fits and starts. There’s a little too much ennui, but I guess directer Tyldum was quietly trying convey while I was champing at the bit for some morality play and a meditation on the human condition. I was pretty naive since Dance Dance Revolution was a distinct plot device here.
Okay. Back to Earth, so to speak. There were some plot holes that irked me. Derailed me from my revery of watching if Quill and Katniss trying to get on with life on that tub. Again I was naive expecting for them to push and pull and cooperate to reach a mutual understanding of how to live together. Um, that sorta played out, if only implied. I dug the ending, but it was inevitable. Catch this.
There is an old skool analogy that was unseemly used in the crime pulps back in the day. Hard-boiled detective stories. Think Hammett, Cain and Chandler. A lotta tropes there. Femme fatales, the usual suspects, shakedowns of the same. And a lot of really lame gimmicks that kinda shoved the plot along. Akin to what Tyldum did in the final, distorted act of Passengers. He tossed an alligator over the transom.
That’s an old pulp detective device, when the writer comes to an impasse and does something outlandish to keep the readers’ attention, even if it has nothing to do with the established story. Say a literal alligator was dropped into Jake Gittes’ grimy office via the window over the front door (which is called a transom) and now what to do? It’s a ruse in reverse, if you will. Everything in Passengers was stuttering along just fine, until director Tyldum made a hard left into hard S/F, which was jarring and made me roll my eyes and drift off like a balloon. This may have very well been when Passengers hopped the track and lost the audience. It lost me, dammit.
I often take time (as with the above allegory) to explain the jargon I tend to smear all over this blog. I believe that the majority of my audience are pretty sharp, but for the paltry few who fail to understand the your/you’re dynamic I think it courteous to run to the whiteboard, marker in hand and clarify a few things. Meaning my endless fallback on quotes, Hollywood argot and just plain, stupid metaphors to prove my point. So right now I feel obligated to explain the difference among “hard” S/F, “soft” S/F, and an unexpected Alligator mississippiensis being plopped onto your welcome mat. BTW an alligator is an ambush predator.
Everything went so very wrong in the final act. The human condition that so chided us so for two hours was shattered. We descended into Michael Bay territory. The hard left, like the story needed a surprise alligator or something to keep us invested. Didn’t work on me. Anyway hard and soft. I feel that this is important if you ever get the chance to watch the film.
Hard science fiction is a sub-genre of science fiction writing that emphasizes scientific accuracy and precise technical detail as part of its world-building (EG: the Avalon and its mission). Soft science fiction is a genre that consists of scientific or futuristic elements, but does not delve deep into the technical details of the science. It puts more focus on psychology, society/culture, and politics. Tyldum tried to have this both ways, but there was a very abrupt dissonance that split Passengers into two very different movies.
While not being S/F Imitation was a historical fiction meditation on being an outsider, with maybe only one scene with flash-and-dash. It didn’t allow it. Neither did the third act where humble Jim became John McClane to REDACTED amongst whiz-bang lacking any nuance that was building with the first two acts. The scenes were harsh, off-kilter and betrayed any soft S/F world-building that felt very promising. I guess that Tyldum felt the need to throw the audience a sop, and it fell to the theatre floor with a splat. In sum the final act of Passengers pissed me off and I had felt had. Hard S/F should have been avoided in Passengers. At the outset the movie was a promising meditation on solitude and how it affected our protag Jim. A lot of thoughtful navel-gazing about his unfortunate solitude, and if I haven’t hammered that home by now you must have unsubbed me. Overall, that dramatic trope proved appealing. C’mon, ever feel all alone and keep asking why me? That’s natural, and we’ve all been there. And when that feeling consumes you you may wish to start a blog.
J/K. Not. Still I felt had.
In conclusion K had another insight:
“Is trouble not worth being alone?”
No. No it isn’t. Especially when aloneness is concerned. On Earth, in space or even in your mind.
The Verdict…
Rent it or relent it? A mild rent it. Passengers is capital Q quality…until it isn’t. That bait and switch. Hollow. Tyldum had me for a bit, but eventually I needed to get some sleep.
Get it? I’m so clever.
The Musings…
- “That is not a robot question.”
- Aurora = Sleeping Beauty?
- “I’m a journalist. I know people.”
- Why does the bar remind me of the one in The Shining?
- “I went shop…lifting.”
- That is a very confusing staircase.
- “I’m not saying the Universe is evil, but it sure has a nasty sense of humor.” That is a good line.
- Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone.” Heh.
- “Does this seem fishy to you?”
- Fishburne looked like a mall cop, and reeked of deus ex machina.
- “It’s Wednesday.”
- Why does WordPress’ spellchecker keep blooping Latin quotes?
- “Arcturus…”
- Sorry for all the bitching. I got had.
The Next Time…
Oh no! Justice Smith’s ace detective dad has gone missing! This sounds like a case for Detective Pikachu!
Another espresso? Pika!