Murphy’s law states “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”, and so it is with Gravity. Over the course of a spry ninety minutes, writer/director Alfonso Cuarón deftly guides us through a maelstrom of nerve racking calamities in one of the most visceral and nail biting films of the last decade.
The story is simple: When a collision destroys their Space Shuttle, astronauts Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) must fight for their lives and attempt to return to earth. Yet, contained within this linear, intimate narrative are some of the most universal and hefty themes in cinema; death and rebirth; the heroes journey, and the simple beauty of existence.
Throughout, Gravity is permeated by loneliness and fear, a constant sense of unease. What do you do when faced with the immensity of nothingness, isolated and drifting away from everyone you’ve ever known? This is a film where the emotional journey and the sensorial experience are given an equal billing.
In a film where fully 90% of the imagery is created on a computer, the boundary between what’s real and what’s not is totally indistinguishable. Kudos most goes to effects house, Framestore, and their work here is cracking. The use of 3D, meanwhile adds subtle embellishment to the already sublime vistas, placing you in an infinite depth of field, or adding gentle texture. Much like last years similarly gorgeous Life of Pi, rather than the gaudy excesses of Avatar. Tension is heightened by Steven Price’s simple, almost ambient score pulsating and ratcheting up the strain before ebbing away to provide a subtle counterpoint to some brief moment
of serenity.
Meanwhile, Cuarón’s roving camera, constantly alternating between objective and subjective perspectives, blurs the line between what it is to watch a film and feel like you’re an active participant. The use of long, unbroken shots is something of a Cuarón specialty (the ambush from Children of Men springs to mind), but here he takes it further. A bravura 13 minute opening shot is, with only slight hyperbole, one of the most astounding sequences in cinema history and is worth the admission price alone. Indeed, the film is littered with moments of pure glory. Several images conjuring the work of such luminaries as Spielberg or Kubrick; a fetal Bullock in particular harking back to the latter’s iconic Star Child.
But while this film does share some of the transcendental and meditative DNA of 2001, the short run time serves to make Gravity far more of its own beast; a taut and efficient fairground ride. Here is the overwhelming sense of some unstoppable force propelling us towards the conclusion that this chain of events won’t stop until we hit the ground. Gravity is apt a title as there could be.
Meanwhile umbilical cords literally connect characters together for much of the film, with Cuarón exploring the topic of parental attachment and loss that has run through his work all the way back to A Little Princess. Doctor Stone’s psychological trauma over a recent tragedy unfolds in real time, as she inwardly and outwardly strains to propel herself from perfect isolation back to the world of the living.
It’s a subdued and natural performance, and one that deserves recognition. Bullock’s Ryan Stone carries us all the way to the final sublime moment, quietly emphasising the intrinsic value of the life we take so often for granted. Gravity is an ode to survival, a film about moving forward, picking yourself up and carrying on in spite of it all. It’s a thrilling and gorgeous piece of work, an instant classic.
5/5