Watching Interstellar

Foreword

So, out of all the movies I have seen, Interstellar seems to have the most profound impact on me. As much as I enjoy the spy thriller of Bourne and Tom Clancy, there is something monumental about Interstellar that just really hit me where I live. So I thought, what if Henry saw it?

Though be forewarned, writing about watching a movie isn't quite my strong suit.

…

Henry had never been one for movies or television for that matter. He had been raised up on books, and books alone. To be able to read for leisure was a sign of scholarly traits in his time, a skill to be proud of. Though it saddened him to see books being relegated to the minority, it still brought him a semblance of joy to know that many were able to read for leisure, and that a good story always brought the masses together.

It was funny to think that nearly most of those alive today, consider Tolkien's work a powerful classic, while to Henry, it didn't feel all that classical. Granted, anything for him to feel 'classical' had to have existed before his time. Regardless, he enjoyed the lore of the Lord of the Rings, and marvelled at Tolkien's creative genius for painting such a rich and vibrant world. Many authors have come since, and none have matched his talent.

The film adaptations had received critical acclaim and even one several Academy Awards. Lucas had been pressuring him to watch the trilogies sometime, but from what Henry had been told around the precinct, movie adaptations generally left out a lot of the book so that everything could be seen in one sitting.

Such a shame really, that movie had to cater to an audience that could barely focus for more than ten minutes. It turned Henry off from watching cinema. That wasn't to say Henry had never seen a film. No, he had seen a couple in his very long lifetime, but they lacked a vibrant story and a compelling cast of characters. The plot always felt a bit watered down as to not offend the masses, and the acting was just so stilted that John Wayne was considered an acting god.

But tonight, Jo had been insistent that they go to see something on the silver screen. It would be best that he humoured her. They deserved a break after all.

"What film are we watching tonight, Detective?" he asked.

Jo turned off the engine and unlatched her seatbelt.

"Don't know," she answered. "Thought we'd just see what's on."

Following her into the cinema complex, Henry noticed a few differences. There were certainly a lot more movie available, each catering to a different demographic. It was also nice to see that a lot of them had shrugged off the tacky and somewhat comical themes in preference for something more apt to the nature of their genre. Romance movies had a darker colour palate. Family movies were brighter.

"How about we watch Interstellar?" Jo suggested. "Nothing else good is on."

Interstellar, now that was a movie title that sounded vague. Henry could only assume it was something about being between stars, and that meant space travel. On the promotional cover, there was a ring like structure with boxes attaches to its frame, and a spire which lead to a central shape that was unrecognisable. The structure seemed to be adjacent to a warped cosmic nebula.

"Seems mysterious enough," Henry said. "Why not?"

They purchased their tickets from the concession stand, including a two large frozen drinks and a medium popcorn. Henry would never admit this outright to anyone, but sometimes a sweet frozen drink was better than a finely blended tea – sometimes.

Walking into the theatre, the two took their seats as the commercials began. Nothing in the clothing segment really picked up Henry's attention. Most of what he owned were bespoked, tailored specifically for him. He was part of that niche market that required no advertisement.

Eventually the movie began.

"Well my father was a farmer… just like everyone was back then. There just wasn't enough food," an elderly woman said.

The interview then switched to an old man, missing an eye.

"There was so much dust. Dust everywhere. When we set the table, everything had to be facing down."

Henry immersed himself in the descriptive world building. It was vague, only dropping pieces for the audience to form a coherent image of the world that was being portrayed. The future was no doubt desolate, and humanity regressed. So much of it echoed humanity's past; the Great Depression and the famine that came hand in hand.

"We need to tell our children how to take care of Earth. Not tales of leaving it."

"You're like one of those useless machines, called an MRI. Now if we had one of those things, the Doctors would've found the cyst in my wife's brain before, not after she died."

That one shred of subtle message that seemed to add so much more to the richness of the world, but more importantly, a reflection of the real world. If humanity would ever be forced back into some kind of corner, will it curl up into a ball and wait for the inevitable? Or will it fight back?

The story progressed, and in time, Henry saw the bond that was shared between Cooper and his daughter, Murphy. The acting was phenomenal, far more powerful and subtle than it had been back in the early days of cinema, and certainly more riveting than theatre.

"I'm coming back, Murph," Cooper promised.

"When?" the child sobbed.

Silence. He had no answer.

…

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

…

The tension was rife as a metronome ticked away in the background, symbolic of the time lost. A moment spent on the planet meant hours would be slipping by on Earth. Relativity was certainly a boggling thing. Even though Morgan confessed himself to be a man of science, he did feel he was born a bit too early for the world of theoretical physics.

The ideas those great minds dappled in was borderline transcendent, otherworldly, above the problems of the world today. Henry had seen the complex mathematical formulas at the University of Edinburgh, and he barely understood it.

"A physicist fears time," Professor Brand say.

And so does an immortal with all the time there is, Henry added silently.

…

"Those aren't mountains," Cooper said with dread. "Those are waves."

Chaos followed, and with it, the symphonic crescendo cascaded through the speakers. A chorus of powerful voices bellowed, crying the impending horror that was to come, and the pipe organ that droned on ominously.

Doyle was picked up by the waves and hurled away from the safety of the ship.

The mountains wall of water slammed into the Ranger, picking it up. As quickly as it came, the water left them behind, only to be at the mercy of another wave.

Henry tried to hold onto his composure, but the suspense was killing him.

Cooper and Amelia Brand eventually made their way off world and back to the Endurance. As the airlocks opened, a much older Romily awaited them.

"I've waited years," the man said softly.

"How long?" Cooper gasped.

"Twenty three years, four months and eight days," TARS answered.

…

Cooper was sitting at the console, watching the messages that his family had sent him. All of them so far had been from his son, recounting his life without his father. There was the birth of Cooper's first grandson, and the death of his first grandson and father in law.

The soft tune of the pipe organ filtered through again. It was grounded, yet there was an air of religiosity, a hope in blind faith that there will be a better tomorrow.

Finally, his daughter came on.

"Hey dad."

"Hey Murph."

"You son of a bitch. I never made one of these because you were still responding and I was so mad at you for leaving. And then when you went quiet. It seemed like I should live with that decision… and I have."

Murph's tone was so callous, or at least trying to be. Her voice, her eyes were filled with pain and regret. But she was still too upset at her father for leaving, and all of that boiled over into the fact that she would never be able to see him again.

"But today's my birthday," she continued. "And it's a special one because you told me… you once told me that when you came back that we be the same age."

Cooper was sobbing uncontrollably. Henry could understand the pain. He could sympathise with it. When Abigail had left, things between him and Abe had turned for the worst.

"This might be a real good time for you to come back," Murph broke.

So did her father.

Henry shifted in his seat, and left out a soft exhale.

The tension in his form was not lost upon Jo. She knew that something in this scene was bothering him. It seemed to coincide with how defensive he got about his past. He said that he didn't have children of his own, but seeing how he reacted to this scene, she doubted it.

…

Landing on Doctor Mann's planet – isolation had not been kind to its first explorer. Mann's pained cries from spending years alone was not lost on Henry. He too had tried it, tried to isolate himself from humanity. But it never worked, after a few months alone, he would find his way back and return to his calling as a physician. Mann unfortunately, did not have that luxury.

As the movie progressed, the horrifying nature of the mission was truly revealed. Man was never meant to leave Earth, only its spirit was. There was no hope for those who remained.

"We can care deeply, selflessly for those who we love," Mann explained. "But that empathy rarely extends beyond of our line of sight."

Those words, so cold yet understanding, callous but empathetic. In that one phrase, Doctor Mann had encompassed the cruel logicality of the human mind devoid of sentimentality and morality. When faced with extinction, any other option would be preferable.

…

The fifth dimension, where all the possibilities of the same starting conditions of that specific universe could be seen. An infinite number of variations that were virtually identical yet unique in their own way.

"Make him stay, Murph. Don't make let him leave, Murph! Don't let me leave!" Cooper cried. "Stay! No! No! No!"

In that space between spaces, Cooper slammed his palm into the third dimension, hoping that his effort would be for nought.

Henry held his breath, and exhaled.

…

To see Cooper's daughter age while he was still the same as the day he left. It hit a little too close to home for Henry as tears began to pool in his eyes. One day, Abraham would be lying in a hospital bed, close to death. And Henry would hold onto his son's hand, watching the inevitable.

"No parent should have to watch their own child die. Now go."

"Where?"

"Brand," Murphy answered. "She's out there. Alone, in an unknown galaxy. Maybe right now she's settling in for the long nap."

The film came to a hopeful end, and the lights came back on. Henry leaned back into the chair and let the soft melody of the main theme wash over him. There was an emotional quality to the piece that he found so relatable, but he couldn't quite but his finger on it.

One by one, the people filed out of the theatre, silent and in deep thought.

"Henry?" Jo asked. "You there?"

"Hmm? Oh sorry, I was thinking about the film."

"That good huh?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes. Yes it is. I concede my stance on film."

Jo gave a high peel of laughter that seemed to roll through him.

"Slow down Henry. Not all movies are that good. And, there were parts I didn't get."

"Mm, the world of physics have always fascinated me, but never held my interest as much as the anatomy. Still, the higher dimensions are an interesting concept to entertain."

Jo rolled her eyes at his high dollar vocabulary.

"C'mon, let's get you home."

Walking back to the car, she noticed Henry still in deep thought. His mind often wander, but this seemed more than usual.

It was a film that returned to humanity's roots; a desire for exploration. He had to admit that when man began to reach for the stars, it was one of the most breathtaking moments in his life. Watching the first moon landing, and those that soon followed was monumental to a man that had once travelled across the seas on a ship powered by wind.

The usage of the pipe organs in the soundtrack was a nice touch, symbolic of that one day, man could eventually hope to understand the metaphysical. After all, science is a philosophy of rationalising and understanding the world.

Maybe living forever didn't seem so bad, to see a world where man would be able to conquer death, eventually time, and even probability. As a man of science, Henry wanted to see this future come to fruition. A future where the people whom he would grow to care for, would not leave. But as a man, he wasn't sure if he could handle all that pain that would come with living so long.

"Henry?" Jo called out again.

The Doctor gave her his full attention again.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"You're drifting out on me again," she said.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," he said with an apologetic smile.

"Wow, that movie got you," she said with a grin. "Who knew, novelist extraordinaire would become so speechless because of a movie?"

"Didn't you say that this was one of the better ones?"

Jo rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, this is one of the more layered ones. Thought it would be on your wavelength."

"Well, thank you."

"Your welcome, Doctor Morgan."

End

Afterword

For those of you who do not know why I was quite fixated with the soundtrack of Interstellar, let me explain to you the story behind it.

Hans Zimmer, the composer, was told by Christopher Nolan to write a creative piece. Nolan gave Zimmer little direction, only a section of the script that contained dialogue between Murphy and Cooper – though Zimmer was under the impression that Murphy was a boy.

So Zimmer then writes about what it was like to be a father, and writes about his son. Upon hearing the test track, Nolan decides that it will be the base score for the film since he believes it captures the emotional qualities of the story perfectly.

The use of the pipe organ is something that should be noted, because as an instrument, it has a very human element to it, it needs to breath. So it has that sense of religiosity to it, a sense of the metaphysical.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hoped you enjoyed it.