You don't say...
In yet another installment of Nolan's trite, pretentious glob, people and magazines and web sites have already found much more interesting adjectives to use about the former's most recent movie, though obviously, theirs are notably and profoundly positive; the movie in question: Interstellar. I've stopped becoming surprised by this point when this happens, because if there's one thing Nolan knows how to do, it's how to market his material. And let me tell you: I couldn't watch more than 5 minutes of television or browse some form of social media without running into either a trailer or some type of discussion. In any case, as is the usual, the prevailing term is "insanely brilliant" and "Kubrick-esque." Oh dear.
So: the plot centers around the idea of a dying Earth (if you've never seen this tired, tired cliché before, then you can probably count the number of movies you've seen on one hand). Nolan and his writers recently read The Grapes of Wrath, so in this iteration, it's death by dust – dust storms, dying crops, difficulty breathing as a result of the dusty air... it's nothing original. Enter Matthew McMconaughey: he's a farmer (and also a scientist and an engineer, as he'll proudly tell you), but understands that there's no future for it – in the coming generation, conditions on Earth will deteriorate to such an extent that those who haven't starved to death will suffocate from the dust. Cue plot contrivance: McMconaughey mysteriously acquires coordinates to the secret, recommissioned decommissioned NASA facility, tasked with sending humanity's last, best hope into space, to enter a wormhole and pursue colonization efforts on planets previously surveilled by lone astronauts, who are now waiting in cryostasis for secondary contact. Actually, that's two contrivances: the wormhole, as we're told, was benevolently placed by an unknown alien entity, with the seeming intent of rescuing humanity – only through this wormhole can humanity realistically hope to reach habitable planets through manned space missions. Anyway, there's some trouble along the way, some people you don't care about die completely preventable deaths, but then it hits you:
This whole movie could have been over in 5 minutes. When McMconaughey makes it to the end, we discover it was him along along who was sending the mysterious plot contrivances from before – as Interstellar would have you believe, gravity and time can be transmitted across dimensions (oh, also love, apparently, but that's only brought up once and then never mentioned again), and after becoming armed with this knowledge, McMconaughey transmits the data necessary to save humanity back to his daughter, through time, after entering a black hole. Furthermore, we learn that it's future-humanity, apparently, that placed the wormhole for past-humanity to discover and save itself through; this begs the question: why the fuck didn't future-humanity place the wormhole closer to Earth? Why does past-humanity need black hole data to create a space station orbiting Jupiter? Tangentially, how does one space station realistically fit the entirety of Earth's population, given that McMconaughey's whole schtick was about leaving no one behind? Or, supposing there are multiple stations, from where are the materials harvested? It goes on (I'm not even going to touch on the mockery this movie makes of the laws of physics). Perhaps the stupidest illogicality that we're expected to believe, though, is that after McMconaughey's daughter picks up the wristwatch she's using to receive daddy's data, said data is unaffected by the movement even though it's reception hinges on precise, undisturbed, gravitational transmission; that is, if it's not really gravity that's affecting the watch (she picks it up and it doesn't interrupt the process), but some other kind of bullshit contrivance, couldn't McMconaughey have found a better way to transmit his data? Surely he'd have found something that would spare his daughter the 25 years the movie states it takes to decipher everything. And of course, all the while, despite the years and years that have passed, the dust-apocalypse is put on hold because its only purpose is in the exposition, to give the movie a tone and then not be followed through upon.
Speaking of which: Nolan's movies are always big on spoon-feeding the audience exposition through dialogue that no one would realistically be having. Consider, for instance, why Michael Caine wastes McMconaughey's time explaining to him that the Earth is dying, or, later, why one of the generic astronauts has to explain to McMconaughey about the basic workings of a wormhole – isn't McMconaughey supposed to be the brightest pilot NASA has had? Certainly, Nolan is aware of what it means to cut out unnecessary fluff – we miss out on McMconaughey's training prior to launch, but when it comes to having hands held... well, suffice it to say you'll really feel the nearly 3-hour running time.
Incidentally: isn't it interesting how McMconaughey ignores future-McMconaughey's message to "stay," but follows the other breadcrumbs, like the coordinates? I guess it didn't occur to future-McMconaughey to write out "IT'S YOU, FROM THE FUTURE." I probably wouldn't have written that either; if I was able to communicate with my past self, I would have spelled out "DON'T WATCH."