If I don't write about Interstellar quickly it's possible my opinion will have Ouroboros'd itself unto oblivion - what do I mean? I mean every time I read somebody defending it online I get so annoyed the little bit I may have liked (Anne Hathaway gave it her all, for instance; it reminded me I miss her) gets poisoned, snuffed, out and away - it's like a ticking time-bomb. I've seen it happen before - I certainly didn't like Man of Steel when I first saw it but it didn't make my skin crawl as badly as just the thought of it does now here in retrospect; whether that's the numbness wearing off and reality taking hold or whether it's the internet chatter affecting my point of view, who knows, six of one half a dozen of the other, that's the price we pay for our brains being fused together in this wild and crazy world wide web; it's hard to keep up from down from down from up anymore.
I mean I read all these pieces picking apart the science of Interstellar and then all these pieces saying the plot-holes aren't the point, and back and forth, and back and forth - if you can't tell by everything I've written so far it seems nearly impossible to step it back and just talk about the movie. But let's try - I could give a rat's corn-fed ass about the science being believable, I hope y'all know I am not that guy; I'm more than able to coast on an emotional plane of movie-watching. And that seems to be the crux of it, the back and forth between people saying it offended their mind or it affected their heart, six of the other or a half-dozen of something.
The visuals, some say, they were so spectacular, they over-come the whatnot's and whodunits and whathaveyoufor's. Well in plain talk I thought Chris Nolan spent a whole shit-ton of money once again to make everything look as boring as he possibly could. In Inception he turned the magic of dreams where everything is possible into some crumbling bricks and an exploding bouquet of flowers that probably cost several million dollars apiece to render, and with Interstellar its a planet of dirty snow and some dudes in space-suits rolling around, it's the clicking of thrusters into place, it's a whole lot of loud nothing that I can barely summon up a magic image from here a week later in my memory banks. Even the people who didn't seem to like the movie seem to take a moment to praise the spectacle and I do not get it. A wave? That's what you got? Nolan could summon up awe if he said "shucks" over and over. Alfonso Cuaron eats his movie for in-between-meal snacks.
And emotionally, nothing but groans, endless groans, echoing from here to the end of the universe. What gallant tripe, father daughter played-out b.s., trampled and half-glanced - where and when was my in to these ridiculous people? I kept waiting, endless years I sat there, my beard gone gray, my toenails yellow, and my heart longing, longing, for squat. Space squat.