An astronaut struggles to maintain his grip on reality aboard a possibly fatally compromised mission to Saturn’s moon, Titan.
Chuck says:
The seed is planted early in Mikael Hafstrom’s “Slingshot” that something is amiss. We’re made to know that the side effects from the drugs used on the astronauts in question can be severe, hallucinations being at the top of the list. R. Scott Adams and Nathan Parker’s script exploits this notion to create a pervasive sense of paranoia that has the viewer questioning every situation presented. It’s an approach that could easily backfire, as similar projects have fallen victim to the screenwriters being a bit too clever for their own good.
For the most part, “Slingshot” works, as this intimate sci-fi exercise, reminiscent of “Solaris” and “Moon,” deals more with inner space than outer, the galaxy of the characters’ minds the environment being explored. As such, the turns in the story are many, keeping the viewer on their toes as we can’t help but question, like the trio of astronauts in question, just what is real and what isn’t.
The time is the near future and the mission undertaken by the Odyssey 1 is a journey to Titan, the largest moon orbiting Saturn. It happens to have an atmosphere most resembling that of Earth, which is reeling from the effects of global warming. The hope is to harvest (?) or study the massive amounts of methane it contains in order to utilize the gas to help stabilize our environment.
Obviously, this is not a quick run around the block to pick up a quart of milk. The journey will take nearly two years, requiring the astronauts – John (Casey Affleck), Nash (Tomer Capone) and Captain Franks (Laurence Fishburne) – chosen for this assignment to be in cryogenic chambers for most of the trip. However, they are awakened every ninety days to check on the ship and instruments to make sure all is in ship shape. The drugs they are given to send them to the land of nod are, perhaps, too effective.
Of course, problems develop as Nash is afflicted with a deep sense of paranoia and fear, which is exacerbated when the ship is damaged, and the computer systems start to glitch. Convinced they are going to die, he proposes they turn the ship around, something John initially opposes. However, once they all awaken from another sleep cycle, he too begins to question the ship’s stability and eventually that of his own mind. Afterall, how else can the appearance of Zoe (Emily Beecham), the woman he left behind, in the hallways of the ship be explained? And why is he hearing voices from Earth on radios that only pick up signals from a few miles away?
The side effects are obviously to blame, but the game becomes determining what is real and what isn’t. Obviously, Zoe’s repeated appearances are illusions but the damage to the ship and the “problems” that result from it, remain in question. Can we believe what John and Nash see? And just why isn’t Franks suffering from any of these delusions?
As we witness the struggle between these three develop, these scenes are intertwined with flashbacks involving Zoe and John. Their meeting, courtship and breakup are all revealed during key moments of his unraveling. As such, their validity is also ultimately called into question, adding to the uncertainty of John’s mental state.
Barry Chusid’s production design proves both inviting and menacing. Suffused in tones of cool white and teal, there’s a soothing nature to the environment, one that deceptively encourages submission. That we only see a very few spaces on the ship stokes a sense of claustrophobia that increases as the film progresses, while its one, circular hallway subtly suggests the inescapable nature of John’s paranoia.
The film flirts with overstaying its welcome, some scenes running a bit long, a confrontation or two, unnecessary. However, the questions at the center of the story keep us engaged, the fine performances by all adding to the urgency of the premise.
The answer to the problems that plague John are narratively sound, as no out-of-left-field tricks are employed during the third act. Ultimately, “Slingshot” poses uncomfortably personal questions regarding memory and identity, serving as an effective metaphor for the psychological troubles many of us contend with. It offers little in the way of solutions where mental health is concerned, its suggestion of staying true to yourself, at least in this instance, ultimately proving faulty.
3 Stars
