May 02, 2006
Roving Mars
Red Rover! Red Rover!
I'm simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by space exploration. I wouldn't hesitate to recite a few approving bars of Gil Scott Heron's critique of the American space program, "Whitey On the Moon," timeless in its contemporary relevance (*cough* Katrina *cough*); but nor do I mind watching a Discovery Channel special on the Hubble telescope, gawking at the latest Astronomy Picture of the Day, or even sitting through a entire quarter of ASTR 103: Astronomy for the Liberal Arts. I'm wide-eyed at the hands of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, but my gut turns at thinking of the tramp who bemoans space travel whilst being beaten by Alex and his cronies in a Clockwork Orange .1
I brought that spaceship baggage with me into Vancouver's Canada Place theater this Sunday for the viewing of IMAX's latest striking stargazer, Roving Mars [2006]. The film follows the Martian excursions of NASA's twin robot rovers, Spirit and Opportunity, and the laboratories and launch pads that got them to the Red Planet in the first place.
Like any IMAX movie, the screening is an experience; you feel like the eight-story high silver screen takes you half the way to heaven. The enlarged panoramas of endless Martian vistas evoked something within me that approached The Onion's headline for the 1969 moonwalk: "Holy Shit! Man Walks on Fucking Moon!" Only this isn't the moon, its Mars, a whole nother fucking planet. And we're on it. And in Roving Mars, you are fucking on it! It is a testament to what the human race can achieve when it puts its mind to something, and I can't help but marvel at it.
Beyond this sort of reaction, though, the film is both a Walt Disney Picture and a "public service" presentation by Lockheed-Martin, and it shows. In terms of content, it essentially amounts to an appeal for tax dollars ("Red rover! Red rover! Send tax dollars over!!"). Throughout the picture, marvelous visuals are held hostage by a milquetoast narrative, in what amounts to a hermetically sealed look at the NASA space program. The awe-inducing images of the Red Planet are strung together by interviews with very enthusiastic NASA engineers, as well as CGI recreations of rocket launches and the Martian landscape.
Neither interviews nor CGI are inherently vacuous, but Roving Mars almost makes them as empty as the open vacuum of space itself, because the film doesn't trust its audience. The filmmakers must have thought audiences wouldn't warm to anything but endless platitudes about the greatness of the rover project, because that's all we really get from the NASA scientists — no interesting scientific details, no in-depth look at the 4,000 person team that pulled off the whole venture. As for the CGI, as the rocket is leaving Earth's orbit, the sequence's soundtrack is peppered with strong bass blasts and explosions; again, apparently the filmmaker's must have thought the silence of space too boring for your usual audience. Truth be damned.
It's very unfortunate that the film spares us the details, because based on the rovers' photos, Mars appears to be a very boring place. It's only in the details — the composition of the rocks (that hint at the existence of water long ago), the arc of the hills, the atmospheric readings — that we learn anything. The scientists' passion lies in the details. They are really chewing Big Red for all its worth.
Like the rovers' tracks across the red dust, Roving Mars leaves behind nothing but impressions. For instance, I couldn't leave IMAX behind without pondering the single-mindedness of science. Early in the film, a crew of NASA engineers piles into contamination suits before beginning the day's research (to my disappointment, it appears NASA scientists do not engage in any male locker-room jockery), and they might as well be protecting themselves from the political and social world outside. The film itself does a good job of protecting the program from the world at large, and any sort of questions the world brings along with it (about space militarization, say, or anything else remotely related to nation States).
What is it about science and nature that lend them selves to the big, big, big screen? The answer might lie in the context of IMAX itself. Though the ticket prices were actually fair compared to a matinee at a conventional theater, IMAX as a whole is an expensive format, a fact the theater itself betrayed. The Vancouver theater — the first permanent 3D screen in the world, according to our pre-screening IMAX jockey — is housed at the top floor of Canada Place, a sterile, bayside fortress for the filthy rich, sequestered alongside the city's downtown core. Home to the Vancouver Convention and Exhibition Centre, the place was crawling with businessmen and tourists, a highpriced hovel for the international elite who take it upon themselves to make the big decisions that affect our lives.
Clearly, IMAX goes where the money is; if Lockheed-Martin wants to foot the bill, as it did with Roving Mars , all the better for IMAX. Unfortunately, it's not all better for our intelligence. I am only willing to let the John Glenn-types off the hook for a few "Holy Shit" moments; then its back to the real world, back down to planet Earth. I am afraid I am with Gil Scott on this one:
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face and arms began to swell.
(and Whitey's on the moon)
I can't pay no doctor bill.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
Ten years from now I'll be payin' still.
(while Whitey's on the moon)
The man jus' upped my rent las' night.
('cause Whitey's on the moon)
No hot water, no toilets, no lights.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
I wonder why he's uppi' me?
('cause Whitey's on the moon?)
I wuz already payin' 'im fifty a week.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Taxes takin' my whole damn check,
Junkies makin' me a nervous wreck,
The price of food is goin' up,
An' as if all that shit wuzn't enough:
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face an' arm began to swell.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
Was all that money I made las' year
(for Whitey on the moon?)
How come there ain't no money here?
(Hmm! Whitey's on the moon)
Y'know I jus' 'bout had my fill
(of Whitey on the moon)
I think I'll sen' these doctor bills,
Airmail special
(to Whitey on the moon)
NOTES:
1 Perhaps this is Stanley's self-reflexive justification for Clockwork Orange, I don't know. I'll only mention here that I have some gut-turning misgivings about Clockwork Orange overall.
