Christopher Nolan’s latest film is sprawling, huge, and proof that Danny Boyle’s 2007 astronauts-saving-humanity epic Sunshine is sorely underrated.
Cillian Murphy as Robert Capa in Sunshine
20th Century Fox
Christopher Nolan's Interstellar, which is now in theaters in grande size and IMAX, left me feeling at turns awestruck, annoyed, impressed, amused, and ultimately a little empty inside, much like the vastness of space. But more than anything, it gave me a renewed appreciation for Sunshine, the 2007 movie from Trainspotting director Danny Boyle that also happens to be about astronauts embarking on a desperate journey to save humanity.
Sunshine is cramped and crabby and an ensemble effort where Interstellar is expansive and optimistic and focused on the experiences of one particular man. Boyle's film is about resetting the clock on Earth rather than picking up and heading to brand-new realms. If you, like me, were frustrated by the lack of consideration that Interstellar gives to non-America, the stress of space travel, and the psychology of facing extinction, Sunshine provides a reassuring counterbalance in which all of Earth is invested in mankind's survival. Plus, it's an effort that requires awful sacrifices.
Sunshine, which was written by Alex Garland (Boyle's collaborator on The Beach and 28 Days Later...), is a much smaller film than Interstellar, at least as far as giant space epics go, costing a reported $40 million to Nolan's $165 million. It wasn't a hit, and there were complaints about the unexpected direction it took in its third act, but it's aged incredibly well — better, I think, than Interstellar will once it's removed from the grandeur of the big screen and the creakiness of its attempts at emotional drama becomes more evident.
Cliff Curtis in Sunshine
20th Century Fox
Sunshine never equals Interstellar in scope — instead of hauling off to a different galaxy, it sticks to our solar system and the dying Sun that its characters are trying to jump start. But it uses a sense of claustrophobia to its advantage. Interstellar makes space travel look relatively easy — McConaughey's Cooper, who was once a NASA pilot, steps effortlessly back into the role with no apparent need for further training and weathers two years of the voyage in cryo-sleep. But Sunshine's crew is tense and ragged, and the members have spent 16 months getting on each other's nerves when it starts. And where Cooper is chosen for his mission thanks to destiny, the team on the Icarus II in Sunshine ("eight astronauts strapped to the back of a bomb") is made up of carefully chosen specialists.
They, like their predecessors, are a multinational group: physicist Capa (Cillian Murphy), engineer Mace (Chris Evans), pilot Cassie (Rose Byrne), biologist Corazon (Michelle Yeoh), doctor and psychologist Searle (Cliff Curtis), communications officer Harvey (Troy Garity), navigator Trey (Benedict Wong), and captain Kaneda (Hiroyuki Sanada). (And much of the cast went on to greater fame.)
Sunshine may actually be more naive than America's apparent isolationism in Interstellar, suggesting the world has managed to cooperate long enough to work not one but two resource-draining missions together. But it's also a simple, if imperfect (the cast spoke mainly in American accents to make the movie more U.S.-friendly) representation of an honest-to-god global effort and an acknowledgment of the fact that multiple countries have invested in space programs.
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