A visceral film that feels like a lucid dream.
I once had a film professor who told me that movies should overwhelm
you, fully absorb you into them, and truly become larger than reality.
For this reason, he opposed watching a movie on small media devices,
feeling as though the experience is damaged in the process. I always
agreed with him. But I never agreed with him so firmly until I saw
Gravity, the epic by visionary director Alfonso CuarĂ³n, who very well may have just crafted his masterpiece. Watching
Gravity
on anything other than a high quality, large screen would be a sin from
which there is no penance, dooming you to lose the full effect of one
of the most moving works to ever grace cinema.
Rarely is every aspect of a film -- from the acting, direction,
photography, and beyond -- in such perfect sync, uniting harmoniously to
craft something that will undoubtedly become timeless.
Gravity is
one of the most awesome things I have ever witnessed. It’s a visceral
film that feels more like a lucid dream, and it’ll stand as a compelling
example of purely visual storytelling.
The story is, at least on the surface, a simple one, taking place in
near real-time, while avoiding the gimmicky feel that usually accompanies the idea. On a mission to repair the Hubble Space Telescope, Dr. Ryan
Stone (Sandra Bullock) and veteran astronaut Matt Kowalski (George
Clooney) are caught in a cascade of debris caused by a missile strike,
which is systematically wiping out everything in low-Earth orbit. As
time goes on, these characters attempt to survive one terrible event
after the other, culminating in one of the most intense films I have
ever seen.