Jakub and Lenka, once happily married, are now estranged, both literally and figuratively, by space and time. Jakub is an astronaut, sent on a pivotal mission, but during his solitude, he is plagued by an overwhelming depression that not only threatens his mission, but more importantly, his sanity. He hasn't had any form of in-person human contact, only video messages from home, and a strict work relationship via the radio with an engineer back on the ground. Being so alone, separated from humanity by literal space and the void of the universe, you have more than enough solitude to think about life, and it's in these moments when we find ourselves most vulnerable to our insecurities.
Being left alone with such thoughts for too long isn’t healthy. You're bound to go either insane, and fall prey to these nightmarish emotions, or your subconscious will project something in order for you to make sense of it all, and try to reassure, protect its host. Why on earth you would conjure up a soothing therapist who guides you through your trauma and have it be a ginormous talking fucking spider, I don't know, but lucky for Jakub, this spider is more intrigued by learning "humanry," and chocolate mousse, than it's hungry for his organs.
The film casts enough doubt on the genuine existence of Hanus the stoner spider therapist/universe traversing emotional space guide, to make you question the tangibility of such a thing. Through the severely fractured mental state of the protagonist, it could be a visage, a subconscious guide through his anguish, but it also allows viewers to believe in the spiders existence, through clever dialogue that fleshes out the spiders backstory, and the overall surrealism that seeps through the film. Hanus could be as real as you or I, but then again, he could be as Imaginary as my amazonian giant centipede trauma therapist from the days of my youth, it all depends on your personal life experience, and how you interpret the film's themes and narrative. I definitely feel like this film would be more enjoyed by people who A) are in the midst of a mid life crisis, B) older, more sensitive people who have experienced more loss and pain, and/or C) introverted spacemen with a rusty moral compass.
It's like Ad Astra meets Interstellar, with a dash of Solaris. It's a melancholic, atmospheric slow burn that I'm confident will become a cult classic in due time, and this is coming from one of the biggest arachnophobes in the UNIVERSE.
Adam Sandler delivers another commanding performance to add to his slowly but surely growing repertoire of sensational performances, this time as he dives headfirst into sci-fi! Emotionally resonant, charged, raw, easy to connect with, and feel deeply for, despite his characters rigid ways and prickly exterior. Paul Dano was the perfect voice casting for Hanus. His soothing voice is something you would expect to hear in a sleep mediation video, deftly walking a fine line between sounding like a creepy psychokiller and a patronising middle school teacher with an almost angelic voice. You willingly want to confide all your darkest secrets in him, whilst you cower in fear. It's an odd feeling to say the least. The film most definitely works best when the pair are conversing, sparking many introspective moments that dig as deep as the void of space is so expansive.
In slower, more quite scenes, where most people seem to be getting bored, Matt Richters score lulled me into a state so soothing i found myself lost amongst my own emotional pondering.
It's not a bad film, it's far from it, in fact, I think it's pretty amazing. It's in touch with its feelings, it doesn't pander to the audience, it doesn't opt for the safety net of mediocrity, or simplicity, it asks deep questions, gives even deeper answers, it's thoughtful, it dares to question the fragility of our psyches, the importance of companionship, and i would even go as far to say it's a beautiful, metaphorical advocate for therapy, and the strength it takes to venture deep into the pain that plagues us.
9/10
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