Movie Review: The Martian

Hollywood has sent a clear message to nitpickers with The Martian: either suspend your disbelief when Sandra Bullock’s hair doesn’t move as it should in Gravity, or watch Matt Damon count his poop.

That’s one hell of an ultimatum, Bourne or otherwise.

The Martian, directed by Ridley Scott and based on the self-published novel by Andy Weir (a persnickety programmer turned author), wants to be scientifically unimpeachable, hoping, perhaps, to avoid the Neil deGrasse Tyson-led backlash that met the similarly space-themed Gravity and Interstellar.

That means having star Matt Damon, as an astronaut accidentally stranded on the Red Planet, spend many a scene evaluating how exactly he’ll increase his water supply in a totally arid, alien environment, as well as grow food within his very own fertiliser. (As has been oft-quoted from the trailer, his character Mark Watney says he’ll have to “science the s*** out of this,” and apparently, he was being literal.)

Turns out The Martian’s obsessive fear of a fact-check was rendered pointless this week when NASA revealed Mars is 100 sunburnt kids away from being a damn Wet ‘n Wild water park.

Still, it doesn’t matter that the flick is now about as accurate as John Carpenter’s Ghosts of Mars; even if the planet really was drier than a Ken Burns doco, The Martian is a movie, not an academic journal, and it should only be evaluated as such.

These are the questions that matter: does it match the emotional, dizzying heights of Gravity? Is it as engrossing as Scott’s own Alien? Is it as isolating as Moon? As thoughtful as Sunshine? As existential as Solaris? As nail-biting as Apollo 13? As emotional as WALL-E?

No, no, no, no, no, almost, and not humanly possible.

What it is, however, is something else. It's good. That is to say, good-hearted. The Martian’s ace card is not its strict adherence to the laws of physics but actually its goofy sense of humour and clown-car of sweet supporting actors, not to mention the immensely likable Damon, whose jokey botanist Mark Watney is a solid hang.

You see, Watney’s crewmates - played by Jessica Chastain, Michael Peña, Kate Mara, Aksel Hennie and Sebastian Stan - are wracked with guilt over leaving their buddy behind following an aborted reconnaissance mission to Mars. When they discover he’s still alive, they propose a life-risking retrieval without blinking.

On Earth, the heads of NASA (Jeff Daniels and a particularly amusing Chiwetel Ejiofor), its PR person (Kristen Wiig) and some anti-social engineers (Donald Glover, Mackenzie Davis, Benedict Wong) work tirelessly, together, to bring him home. (Hey, that’s the tagline!)

As the years pass, the global fascination with saving Mark Watney spreads to China, where its government is willing to lend a hand with the rescue.

A montage to David Bowie’s “Starman” featuring everyone combining forces – shaking hands and such - should set off viewers’ cheese-o-meters, which, I believe, is an actual instrument being developed at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

And yet, this Kumbaya-sesh of a movie is just too disarming to deny. A film set in a future where everyone gets along? Now we’re really removed from reality.

Scripted by Drew Goddard (who has jettisoned some of the obstacles that face Watney in the book) and directed unobtrusively by Ridley Scott (a legendary name, built on reliability rather than definitive style), The Martian is a winning and even somewhat inspiring crowd-pleaser.

As JFK once said, the conquest of space “deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation may never come again.”

Its science may no longer entirely check out, but The Martian keeps the spirit of that statement alive. I can imagine young viewers growing up with the dream of one day making a discovery that’ll derail the premise of some blockbuster, as mankind’s best did this week.

3.5/5

In cinemas now. Rated M for survival themes and coarse language.