This started out being one of the most promising sci-fi movies I’ve seen in a long time. Sure, the science, even to me, seemed a bit sketchy. Why are those massive bomb areas kept oxygenated, considering the problems with oxygen supply? Can people really survive half a minute of outer space without a suit? Why was the mainframe computer in such a flimsy set-up, considering the fact that you need two human codes to override the AI’s automatic safety maneuver? Etc., etc.
But that stuff didn’t really matter, because they did achieve suspension of disbelief. The atmosphere was taut and slightly unsettling, and it really captured the delicate balance between success and ruin. The characters seemed fairly believable, and there didn’t seem much unnecessary melodrama, besides the Mace/Capa thing. But at least they were believably cognizant of how stupid they were; I’m glad there wasn’t anything more over-the-top. After all, these astronauts would receive the most psychological screening in perhaps the history of mankind. Trey’s breakdown seemed a bit forced, but considering the stakes involved, I can see it. And of course, the star of the movie, Sol herself, was rendered perfectly, a mix of awesome beauty and sheer terror.
Which is why I was so incredibly annoyed when Sunshine suddenly became a third-rate horror movie. What. The. Fuck. The characters even made a joke when they were exploring the Icarus I about being worried that the alien would pick them off one by one. And then it pretty much happens.
In a movie that seemed to be going out of its way to present itself as fairly reasonable and quasi-scientific, we’re suddenly supposed to believe that this man, who’d suffered EXTREME radiation burns 6.5 years ago, managed to survive all this time, by himself, in orbit near Mercury? And his psychological condition makes this doubly absurd. If he’d completed “God’s” task of making sure that humanity is left to its fate, why would he try so hard to survive? Wouldn’t he try to meet God after successfully serving Him? How could he possibly imagine that another ship would come, AND that he’d have the opportunity to screw that one up, too? And how could all that psychological screening have missed this uber-psychopath?
But what’s worse, not only is his existence incredibly stupid, he also suddenly becomes Super-Intelligent Movie Monster, even though he’s had zero contact with an intelligent creature in 6.5 years! He’s somehow super strong (shouldn’t he be like a leukemia patient at best by now?), he can outwit people who HAVE had recent practice interacting with intelligent creatures, and he’s somehow stealthy as a ninja. All the while, we get treated to a series of quick cuts and blurred shots of him preying on our hapless crew while spouting incoherent babble about God’s will.
It’s two different movies, with the second actively trying to sabotage the first, and pretty much succeeding. What a disappointment!