Aniara

now we have fathomed what our space-ship is

--a tiny bubble in a glass of God.

 Aniara is a Swedish science fiction film based on a 1956 epic poem by Harry Martinson. I hadn't heard of it before watching this movie, and honestly, I found it a bit of a slog to get through. That said, I don't tend to get on too well with most poetry; but don't take my word for it, though - it won a Nobel prize, and SF luminaries such as Theodore Sturgeon, Poul Anderson and Vernor Vinge were apparently fans.

 In any case, I'm glad they adapted it into a film. It's a bleakly existentialist (is there any other type of existentialist?) nightmare that enjoys nothing more than punching you in the emotional nuts repeatedly. I imagine the Swedes find it delightful.

 So, what is it about?

 Aniara is a Swedish- oh, wait, I've said that already. Ahem. Aniara is a spaceship - a floating city that ferries humans between a dying earth and colonies in Mars. It's more than a little bit like a giant cruise liner; its passengers can expect amenities, shopping malls, a large auditorium, pools and a MIMA room, among other things.

 What's MIMA? I'm glad you asked! It's a sort of holodeck analogue room where passengers can 'hook up' and revisit places from their memories as vivid illusions. It's important for the movie in several ways, and I'll get back to it later.

 Anyhow. The mission to mars soon goes wrong when the ship is forced to change course after an accident with some space debris. Aniara, and all the souls aboard, are left hurtling out of the solar system into the void with no hope of going back or of being rescued.

 People turn to MIMA at first, then when that breaks, to other, more bizarre ways to pass the time. This Includes cultish orgies, by the way, that are more graphical and less sexy than you'd hope because, well, Sweden.

 The film follows the ship's Mimarobe -the MIMA operator- (Emelie Garbers) from an at-first unimportant role (people prefer going shopping than using MIMA, to transitioning to other roles once she's out of a job. She has a front row in a few important events aboard the ship, falls in love and has a child, you know, tries to lead a good life and present a brave face in front of heartbreak and ultimately a futile existence. Hmmm.

 While she may be the point of view character, the real heart of the movie is the Astronomer (Anneli Martini). She is introduced earnestly saying she doesn't care that everyone on earth is dying: "I've never been very impressed by people," she quips. The bubble quote at the start of this post is hers as well, trying to explain just how insignificant the Aniara is to the universe.

 The Astronomer is the one that constantly finds fault with the lies other people try to find hope with, the one who is brutally realistic about their fate. No prizes awarded for guessing where that will get her, and no prizes awarded for guessing whether she's right.

 While the budget is obviously not very large, the designs are pretty good (loved the space elevator with advertisements along the bottom!), and the actors are uniformly excellent. 

 The science part of the genre equation itself is suspect - the technologies involved are extremely handwavy, entropy doesn't seem to be as active as you'd expect given the time periods involved, and the ship does go through a weird shiny pink cloud at one point; very Star Trek. But the sci-fi ethos is very much present and accounted for; this is ruthless, unflinching speculation, without the concessions you might expect from something meant as entertainment. It's a bit ponderous, but there are enough events to keep the forward momentum going. And maybe a little pitch-black humor to leaven things up a little, if you squint, up until the bold gallows humor of the final chapter's title card.

 Turns out, the film isn't very impressed by people, either.