What a strange beast is this man we call Matthew …
Most filmgoers don’t know Richard Linklater’s name but his effect has been felt through the American independent film scene since the debut of Slacker in 1991. For the star-studded cast of commenters sitting down for some insights into Linklater, it’s hard to imagine a world without him. He is the unicorn who managed to build an entire career of passion projects that most filmmakers never get to, or let toil in production hell.
Interstellar begins at an indeterminate point in Earth’s future, when blight and drought are pushing humanity to the breaking point. “This world is a treasure, but it’s been telling us to leave for a long time now,” laments engineer-turned-farmer, Cooper (Matthew McConaughey). He’s a practical man who set aside dreams of space travel in order to provide for his family, and yet his powerful intellect keeps him sneaking glances skyward. When he and his precocious daughter, Murph (Mackenzie Foy), decipher mysterious signals directing them to random GPS coordinates, Cooper is only too eager to indulge his curiosity.
I really jibe with what Interstellar is trying to accomplish. I want big budget films to aim intellectually and emotionally high. I agree with most of its messages and themes. I am the choir it is preaching to. Which makes it all the more disappointing that the movie is, in the most charitable view, only haphazardly successful. There are aspects to love about the movie — it’s the best-looking blockbuster in years, and there are some truly enrapturing moments. but that’s scattered among strings of misaimed beats across a punishing, nearly three-hour runtime.