“Project Hail Mary” Review: Caloric Yet Wholesomely Delicious
It’s a common activity for elementary schoolers across the country to twist and scoop Oreos into lunar phases. Far from Chris Fleming’s outcries of the staple being maimed, mutilated—desecrated—into an unrecognizable dust in frozen dessert shops from sea to shining sea, in schools, kids carefully sculpt the cookie to represent our space neighbor in its many modes. It’s an edible model that brings wholesome joy to learning about the outer universe. God knows what’s in those things, and God only knows why we let our kids eat ‘em. But its indulgent, formulaic makeup can be forgiven for the wonder for space distilled in tiny humans as they work the medium and fill classrooms with high-pitched chatter.
“Project Hail Mary” can be forgiven for similar pitfalls for similar reasons. Adapted by Drew Goddard from the book of the same name, the story follows unlikely hero Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling) as he’s pulled from his quaint science classroom into joining an international effort to solve a global crisis. This thing called “astrophage” is consuming the sun, and if it isn’t stopped, it will result in the elimination of up to 50% of the population in the next couple of decades. Grace is the man for the job; his infamous thesis makes him a creative thinker unafraid to go against the grain. Better yet, he's a loser. With no wife, kids, car or even a dog to speak of, no one will miss him if he disappears into intergalactic nothingness. Upon his discovery that astrophage is alive and killable, global leaders fling him into the sky to figure out what’s going on, fix it and save the planet with no means of return.
But Grace doesn’t know any of this. Not at the start, at least. The scientist emerges from his forced coma chrysalis and inches across the floor in slimy amnesia. He recovers vestiges of humanity in the spaceship as he experiences context-establishing flashbacks: a light room depicting vivid scenes and natural surroundings from Earth, an accidental grave of his peers and their keepsakes, letters from his students back home. His clothing is affectionate, warm, and colorful—expertly curated by David Crossman and Glyn Dillion to reflect his lighthearted personality. He is set to a score with a human touch by Daniel Pemberton; wooden blocks as percussion later transcend into anthemic choirs and acoustics. Through countless minute details, “Project Hail Mary” has already built an architecture for what it does best: celebrating human spirit and connection so far away from home.
Ryland is alone, and the weight of the world is on his shoulders. That is, until our unlikely hero finds an unlikely friend. A mysterious spacecraft dwarfs his own as it approaches. Grace’s ship inches away, and it inches towards him and so on and so forth in a game of cat and mouse that has the sudden and precise humor of Wes Anderson miniatures. Through some correspondence and a tube connecting the structures, Grace meets an arachnid-looking rock alien. They are first startled, then curious, then compatible. As it turns out, the solitary creature is trying to save his own planet from the very same fate. Grace names his new pal Rocky, and they get to work.
Most of the film is dedicated to exploring Ryland and Rocky’s connection. Mesmerizing, swirling, gaseous planets and the infinite, inky ether are mere backdrops for character and dynamic exploration as the pair engage in a hilarious cultural exchange. Even settling on Rocky’s computer-generated voice when they first meet feels unexpectedly intimate, and further on, discussions surrounding love, mortality, and their respective worlds and physiological makeups endear you to their friendship. They contribute their respective understandings and skillsets; Grace meddles with his computers and test tubes, and Rocky spins metallic models from thin air. Antithetical to full-scope space movies like “Interstellar" where scientific exploration and survival of the human race remain central, these elements are mainly tools to fortify a dynamic that delivers such themes in buddy film fashion, making for an interesting genre subversion.
Make no mistake. As indicated by their similar names, Ryland Grace is Ryan Gosling with metaphorical Superman glasses on—and we wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s him at his best: funny and charismatic, of course, yet emotionally complex to deliver said existential ideas. Gosling carries much of the movie on his shoulders, as he’s the only face we see onscreen for extended periods of time, but not all of it. Rocky is effectively puppeteered by James Ortiz so Gosling can have someone to bounce off of in real time. The difference shows. So much of comedy is dependent on spontaneity and chemistry, and using fully functional physical props cultivates such in ways CGI simply can’t.
Does it make sense for Grace to be so charismatic and lonely? Not without further explanation. Is there one too many twists after the midpoint reversal? At least; 30 minutes of this near 3-hour saga could have easily been shaved. Is this thing blatantly slathered with enthusiastic themes of hope with no room for subtlety? Yes, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. The Power of Friendship and the Indominable Human Spirit has won yet again, and finally, amaze-ly, Grace has found someone to be brave for.