Angie bought the large popcorn. I don’t know why, she only ate a few handfuls. I plowed through most of the rest of it during the movie and gained a pound and a half. Gravity is made for nervous munching.
I was exhausted when the it was over. This is no feel good movie full of cinematic manipulations that leave you exhilarated. Instead, I felt like I had struggled each graceless, torturous minute along with Sandra Bullock. At the end, all I wanted to do was sleep for a week. Which is why I’m writing this morning instead of last night.
Gravity is a what-if based on little things that become astronomical in space. There is no war. Only a botched disposal of a satellite that ends in a chain reaction that sends shrapnel blowing by the Hubble telescope at 20,000 miles per hour. There is no enemy except the environment and one’s own fears.
I lived and died by inches while watching Bullock, a scientist barely-competent in space, cope with the worst scenario possible: what do you do if your spaceship is destroyed and you’re running low on oxygen? As Bullock faces her own imminent death and struggles with each tiny mishap, she also struggles with her own will to live. As spectators we are confronted with larger questions about life.
Tragedies destroy. They also build, through gritty persistence of the human spirit.
Sandra Bullock give the performance of her life in Gavity, far outstripping her Oscar winning turn in The Blind Side. Geroge Clooney is her superb counterpoint. Both of them are sure for Oscar nods, and I find it hard to believe that they won’t win. Despite the exotic background, it is acting that carries Gravity.
Production values are excellent and the special effects seamless and believable. The photography is stunning. Their excellence is that of a good servant, working efficiently and silently so as not to distract from the story.
Go see Gravity. And be sure to take lots of popcorn. You’re going to need it.