The Hab module in the film carries only enough supplies to support Watney for about 300 days, but it will be years before a rescue from Earth is possible. His equipment can make breathable air from the local atmosphere, but food is a problem. Watney, a botanist, figures out how to grow crops on Mars to keep himself alive.
In the film, the Hermes is an ion-drive interplanetary spacecraft powered by a nuclear reactor. An external carousel spins to produce artificial gravity for the crew. Solar panels turn sunlight into electricity to run shipboard systems.
We've all been told playing violent video games can have far reaching consequences, but in this film, a little time with the box can leave you the victim of a bloody fatality that mimics the pixilated imaginations of the game's creator.
The brothers are such consistent filmmakers that despite their enormous acclaim and influence, in recent years they've become somewhat under-appreciated. At this point, to hear that they've made another brilliantly observed, emotionally shattering piece of social realism hardly counts as news.
As is their way, the Dardennes drop us immediately into the action, without bothering to fill in their characters' backgrounds. We do find out that Tori and Lokita met at some point during their travels, under circumstances that have now made them inseparable. While they have a place to stay at a local children's shelter, they spend their days and nights continually on the move, making money however they can. In one scene, they earn some cash singing karaoke at an Italian restaurant.
As Tori races to try and rescue Lokita, the film paints a grimly convincing portrait of two minors being mistreated and exploited at every turn, whether by drug dealers or by the cops we see harassing them on the street. The Dardennes are committed realists but they're also terrific action filmmakers, and this movie is full of agonizing suspense and quick, brutal violence. The story is swift and relentless; it runs barely 90 minutes and never slows down. But at every moment, the filmmakers' compassion for their characters bleeds through, along with their rage at the injustices that we're seeing.
Unlike some of the Dardennes' other protagonists, Tori and Lokita don't face a moral dilemma or a crisis of conscience. Their only imperative is to stay together and stay alive, and our empathy for them is total. There's one moment in the movie that haunts me: It happens in a flash, when Tori and Lokita are running for their lives, and Lokita desperately flags down a passing car. The driver stops for a moment but then she quickly drives on, leaving the children on their own.
Like a million other films in the history of horror cinema, Yurke introduces his protagonists packed into a minivan, riffing on the pros and cons of camping deep in the woods. Gregarious blonde Bridget (Brie Mattson) is all giggly and flirty with her jock bf, Reese (Brandon Wardle); studious Amy (Christina July Kim) is focussed on her PhD paper, barely registering her nerdy guy Kyle (William Romano-Pugh); and, making up the numbers, just-dumped Donna (Sage Mears), who feels her solitary status so much it makes her wander into the night as her matched-up friends party by the campfire.
I was tremendously moved by the dignity that united all the characters and subjects in the film, their courage to arm themselves with knowledge, to take personal risks in order to confront collective injustice. The film makes brilliant and intimate use of the benign and the everyday. We all know that the revolution cannot be televised, but by eating, drinking and talking together, we find solidarity and hope for a better future that lies beyond the self. While the future of cinema feels uncertain, like everything at the moment, I have no doubt that once it is safe to do so we shall congregate again and watch films collectively and alone, in cinemas, in galleries, online, and any available platform. Capitalism will forever remain a great threat to cinema as art, but there are too many of us who believe in its power of transformation to let it disappear.
Established in Melbourne (Australia) in 1999, Senses of Cinema is one of the first online film journals of its kind and has set the standard for professional, high quality film-related content on the Internet.
Suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome but told by her doctor it was all in her head, journalist and academic Jennifer Brea started filming from her bed, contacting other sufferers via Skype, to explore the little understood condition.
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