Tag Archives: Science-fiction

PROJECT HAIL MARY motion picture review

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A triumphant return to classical Hollywood storytelling.

There is something refreshingly old-fashioned about Project Hail Mary. Not old in the sense of dated, but old in the sense of dependable—like a well-built machine designed to do exactly what it promises. It embraces the kind of classical Hollywood storytelling that has quietly fallen out of favor in an era increasingly defined by irony, cynicism, and ideological sorting. This is a film that wants to entertain first, inspire second, and lecture not at all. And in today’s cinematic climate, that alone feels almost radical.

Based on the Andy Weir novel, science teacher Dr. Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling) wakes up on a spaceship with no recollection of who he is or how he got there. As his memory slowly returns, he soon discovers he must solve the riddle behind a mysterious substance that’s causing the sun to die out. As details of the mission unravel, he calls on his scientific training and sheer ingenuity–but he may not have to do it alone.

Project Hail Mary functions simultaneously as a robust science-fiction adventure and a genuinely compelling motion picture about responsibility, sacrifice, and cooperation. It understands that spectacle is most meaningful when tethered to character, and that the audience’s emotional investment—not the complexity of the plot—is what ultimately determines whether a story lands.

And while I am quite high on this film, it isn’t without its shortcomings–particularly when it comes to plotting and pacing. But, in its defense, where plot mechanics falter, the emotive and performative dimensions cary the load. To be sure, the screenplay is not airtight. There are moments where the finer points of the science become a little vague, and occasional plot turns feel more convenient than convincing. The narrative relies on a few leaps of logic that may cause scientifically minded viewers to raise an eyebrow. And structurally, the pacing occasionally sags—particularly in the flashback sequences, which linger longer than necessary and could easily have been trimmed by twenty minutes without sacrificing clarity.

But here is the crucial distinction:

The film earns its emotional beats. And when a movie earns those beats, audiences are willing to forgive a surprising number of narrative imperfections.

At the center of Project Hail Mary lies one of the most unexpectedly affecting friendships in recent science fiction: the bond between Dr. Ryland Grace and the alien known as Rocky. What begins as a pragmatic partnership evolves into something deeper—something recognizably human, despite the interspecies divide. Their relationship is built not on ideology, identity, or tribal affiliation, but on mutual trust and shared purpose. That simplicity is precisely what gives it power. Their friendship resonates because it taps into a fundamental truth about storytelling. Ultimately, it underscores that meaningful connection is more compelling than conflict.

As I survey contemporary movies, in a cinematic landscape that often frames difference as division, Project Hail Mary instead frames difference as collaboration. It suggests that survival, both literal and cultural, depends less on asserting dominance and more on extending cooperation. And that message lands without a trace of sanctimony.

Perhaps the film’s most striking quality is its tone.

At a time when many contemporary movies lean into cynicism—often dividing characters into moral camps or ideological tribes—Project Hail Mary takes a different path. It offers a story built on cooperation, empathy, and shared responsibility. It reminds us that our actions ripple outward. That survival is collective. That progress requires partnership. And that, sometimes the most heroic act is simply choosing to help someone else. In an industry increasingly drawn to provocation and polarization, this film dares to be earnest. And that sincerity is its greatest strength.

Ryan Gosling’s Dr. Grace embodies one of Hollywood’s most enduring archetypes: the reluctant hero. He is not fearless. He is not morally pristine. He is not even particularly eager to save the world. He’s simply a man confronted with responsibility—and forced to rise to meet it. That arc feels deeply relatable because it reflects the way real courage often works. Heroism is rarely the absence of fear; it is the decision to act despite it. The film understands this intuitively, allowing Grace’s transformation to unfold gradually rather than through grand speeches or sudden epiphanies. In doing so, it restores dignity to the idea of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

On a purely technical level, Project Hail Mary is an impressive achievement. The visual effects are sophisticated without becoming overwhelming. The production design conveys scale without sacrificing intimacy. The sound design—particularly in the depiction of Rocky’s communication—demonstrates a level of creativity that enhances rather than distracts from the narrative. Most importantly, the film uses technology in service of storytelling rather than spectacle for its own sake. That discipline is increasingly rare.

For my fellow Star Trek fans out there, this film reminded me of one of the best episodes of The Next Generation, and that is the Darmok episode where in we get the overcoming of language barriers to form collaboration between Captain Picard and an alien creature (a Tamarian) that only communicates in metaphor. It’s a powerful episode (watch it). And of course we get the memorable quote (and one for which I have a t-shirt) “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra.” Perhaps we could say, for this movie, “Darmok and Grace at Tau Ceti.”

Project Hail Mary may stumble occasionally in its plotting and pacing, but its emotional core remains remarkably strong. It is a film that trusts audiences to care about characters, to invest in relationships, and to believe—however briefly—that cooperation is still possible. It is not a perfect movie; but it is a deeply satisfying one.

And in a world of cynical storytelling, that feels like a small miracle–a Hail Mary.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media and host of the show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

MICKEY 17 film review

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Ambitious but disjointed. Bong Joon-ho’s newest film Mickey 17 excels in technical achievement but the full impact of the story demonstrates greater concern for its satire, message, and world building than it does its plotting and structure. Blending multiple genre conventions, Joon-ho’s science-fiction, dark comedy begins with an intriguing premise underscores with existential questions, but ultimately doesn’t feel cohesive from beginning to end. Despite the exhaustive satire–which is entertaining at first–the film works excellently as a critique of the prolific mediation of society, obsession with the idea of self-made celebrity, and the camera fame. Additionally, it presents an exploration of humanity’s fixation on replication and surveillance. Perhaps the film doesn’t call out any particular app or platform, it certainly drives home the point that a monster can be created through obsession with one’s image, control, and manipulation of others.

Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), a disposable employee, is sent on a human expedition to colonize the ice world Niflheim. After one iteration dies, a new body is regenerated with most of his memories intact.

Despite an intriguing premise, the narrative often succumbs to prolonged scenes and sequences, subplots that lack meaningful purpose, and over-explanation in come places whilst lack of purpose exists elsewhere. While the third act is strong and completely engaging, the first act is protracted and the second act is plagued by poor pacing brought on by a wandering direction. The protracted first act delays audience immersion into the core narrative. What would’ve served the plot better as a brief prologue, turns into most of the first act. Even though the film maintains a modicum of innovation and freshness, it struggles to sustain momentum, resulting in a clunky and disposable experience.

The film delivers a relatively strong performative dimension, which helps to keep the audience engaged–however weak the engagement–in the story. And, Robert Pattinson performance strikes a nice balance between nuanced and manic, which mimics the film’s darkly comedic tone. Between his and the other leading actors performances, collectively they add a rolling punchline to the monotony of many scenes and sequences in the film. Mark Ruffalo’s depiction of the authoritarian leader, Kenneth Marshall, is audacious and campy, but doesn’t take long for this performance to become exhaustive–a little goes a long way with Marshall. Playing Marshall’s wife is horror-fan favorite Toni Collette, and even her character overstays her welcome in most of the scenes in which she appears.

Both the plotting and character issues can be connected to the screenwriting, which lacks direction, purpose, and refinement. Mickey 17 is another example of a director with a great, even innovative movie idea, but should work with a screenwriter with a command of proper screenwriting conventions and mechanics to craft the story for the page, and eventually the screen. This issue is not unique to Joon-ho, but a recurring problem I find with many (if not most) writer-directors. Few directors can write as well as they direct; and the inverse is also true–few screenwriters can direct as well as they can write.

Mickey 17 serves as a critique of the mediation of society, wherein informative, entertaining, and surveilling media technologies devalue the individual resulting in individuality with dimension being reduced to a character or commodity to be traded and exploited for the sake of ratings and celebrity. Mickey’s existential crisis of repeatedly dying and being reprinted underscores the alienation experienced in a society that commodifies human existence. Furthermore, Keneth Marshall’s obsession with control and his self-made celebrity mirrors the obsession many have, in the real world, with their “celluloid” self–or more accurately today–their digital self.

Everything Marshall said or did was ran through an image consultant and production crew on how it would look on camera. Looking at the real world, each of those squared images on Instagram or vertical video on SnapChat or Tik Tok, only show an edited version of the subject–the framing and editing is specifically manipulated and articulated to shape the audience’s perception. While this is to be expected in motion pictures and television shows, many of these self-made celebrities and influencers on social media want the audience believe they are being authentic, when it’s all a facade. In this obsession with the camera and “framed” image, society is exchanging that which is real with a projected authenticity; furthermore, the lines between what which is real and that which is fictionalized (or augmented) are becoming increasingly blurred.

Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17 blends satire with science fiction but the film’s underdeveloped plot and uneven character portrayals prevent it from reaching the potential this film demonstrably had with the talent behind it.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

ALIEN: ROMULUS review

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In space, these characters are screaming for dimension. Fede Alvarez’ Alien: Romulus is the closest in form that we have had since the masterful Alien (1979). And while the premise and plot are fairly solid, the plotting and exquisite design cannot compensate for the poorly written characters.

The most human character is a synthetic human, and he is the only character that is thoughtfully crafted. When characters struggle to connect with audiences, then the audience couldn’t care less whether they live or die–ostensibly mitigating any real stakes. The central character is mostly flawless and we never feel as though that they will be injured, much less die (I’m avoiding spoilers). The original Alien delivers incredibly well-written and developed characters that we want to survive. Alien: Romulus‘ characters–well–they should’ve all perished for lack of anything truly compelling. Additionally, this cast is way too young to be taken seriously in these roles that would be better suited for a cast that was at least 10–15 years older.

Where the film does succeed is the throwback design and feel of everything from beginning to end. Even the CG is integrated very well with the much-welcomed use of practical effects. Practical beats CG, nearly every time. Even though this movie is releasing more than forty years from the original, it feels very much connected to that iconic motion picture in form. Everything from the production design to the sounds to the music kept me from completely disengaging from the film. Alvarez has a fantastic eye for composition and atmosphere, but his screenwriting and character development are not on par with the technical achievement of the film. If you love the original Alien, then definitely see Romulus, and have fun with it. But I don’t imagine you will be rewatching this one over and over like the one that started it all. At least, it was way more meaningful than anything that released after Aliens.

Apologies for the short review of a movie that I highly anticipated. But Disney chose not to screen the film for all the critics in the CACF.

Ryan teaches Film Studies and Screenwriting at the University of Tampa and is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter. If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1956) Throwback Thursday Review

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A timeless, terrifying motion picture! Based on the Collier’s magazine serial turned book The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney, directed by Don Siegel, and produced by Walter Wanger (of Cleopatra infamy), this Allied Artists’ motion picture is the single best representation of the fears and anxieties of the 1950s. But the beauty of this particular picture is that its themes including the fear of conformity, loss of identity, dehumanization, loss of individuality, and even vulnerability are still relevant today, perhaps even more so than they were at the time this seminal horror film was released. 

In Santa Mira, California, Dr. Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) is baffled when all his patients come to him with the same complaint: their loved ones seem to have been replaced by emotionless impostors. Despite others’ dismissive denials, Dr. Bennell, his former girlfriend Becky (Dana Wynter) and his friend Jack (King Donovan) soon discover that the patients’ suspicions are true: an alien species of human duplicates, grown from plant-like pods, is taking over the small town.

While this film sits comfortably in the horror/sci-fi subgenre, it shares a lot of characteristics in common with film noir. Between the recurring narration, a central character in over his head, and the fact events do not turn out favorably for the central character, it pulls on the best of the film noir apparatus to craft a highly unnerving cinematic story that prompts one to think about the state of the world around him or her. 

Perhaps in its day, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was a commentary on the threat of communism/socialism on the American republic, but that is not the only subject to which this film can speak to us decades later. Could it still be read as a warning against the threat of communism today? Sure. But, communism doesn’t look or act like it did back in the 1950s. That’s the danger inherent with famous allegorical films such as this one; the well-known danger is pigeonholing it into only ever meaning what it meant back during the days of the Cold War. When in fact, this film can be read as a commentary on a variety of topics, depending on the worldview of the audience member. 

Whatever the form the existential enemy takes, whether you choose to read it as a commentary on communism, socialism, nationalism, or woke-ism (more accurately defined as applied/reified postmodernism), this film speaks to that which is defined as a threat to one’s present existence. When we label what this film is about, we limit its potential to speak to us. So, it’s better to read the film through its various themes versus defining what the enemy is. From beginning to end, the film depicts events and behaviors that rob individuals of expression, identity, competition, entrepreneurship, and choice in exchange for homogeneity, group think, forced societal roles, and emotion. Ostensibly, this film is about an enemy that seeks to dehumanize and force conformity upon everyone—a world in which everyone is equal and exactly the same versus a world in which we are all equal but definitely not the same. The film demonstrates what happens when we are asleep to the threat of the enemy, and it comes in like a thief in the night. And when we finally recognize the threat, it’s all but too late for us, for humanity, for freedom.

The film begins laying the pipe for the second act reveal of the pod people all the way at the beginning. It’s a scene to which many may not pay particular attention; it’s the scene wherein Miles notices that the Grimaldi vegetable stand is no longer open. One of the characteristics of a society that demonstrates a lack of support or simply opposes free enterprise (or by extension the marketplace of ideas), is manifested in this imagery. Farmer Grimaldi abandoned his private farming business in exchange for supporting the planting and harvesting of the alien pods. Other disturbing imagery is the crisis between the second and third acts wherein Miles and Becky are told that the pod people (replicants of their human counterparts) mean them no harm and want to provide a peaceful existence. The real horror here is that the peaceful existence comes at the cost of freedom and one’s unique identity (all the traits that make one a unique man or woman). These pod people are devoid of any genuine emotion, only exhibit the pretense of it, and see individualism as a threat to their existence.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a call to action; it’s a wakeup call to all those that watch it to stand vigilant against tyranny, to stand guard against threats both seen and unseen that seek to undermine what it means to be human. Furthermore, the film posits the idea that the deadliest enemy may not be the one that can be viewed with the naked eye; rather, the deadliest enemy is the one that sneaks in unbeknownst to most individuals. Or maybe it comes disguised as something that sounds great on the surface, but only seeks the destruction of uniqueness, freedom of expression, the marketplace of ideas, and the human dimension of existence. 

Due to the timelessness of the message of this terrifying film, we are drawn back to it time and time again. We are reminded to stand guard against an enemy that seeks to destroy our very way of life. It’s a story of survival and the great cost of freedom. A recurring theme throughout the horror genre is the theme of survival, and Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a brilliant exploration of how to survive against mounting odds that appear unstoppable. Horror films have a way of causing us to rally, causing us to come together in support of our right to survive. There is no other genre that inspires us to fight the enemy like a horror film.

Ryan teaches Film Studies and Screenwriting at the University of Tampa and is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Interested in Ryan making a guest appearance on your podcast or contributing to your website? Send him a DM on Twitter. If you’re ever in Tampa or Orlando, feel free to catch a movie with him.

Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

DUNE (2021) Review

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Audacious sci-fi scale, but a vapid adaptation. Dune is a stunning sci-fi/action visual spectacle that delivers rich imagery and epic fight choreography; but falls short in translating the thoughtful, complex themes and mythology of the source material, which get buried in heavy handed exposition or are entirely cut. Dune (part one) is the first part of the of an epic sci-fi tale about Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto of house Atreides and Lady Jessica, a sister of the Bene Gesserit who are sent by the Padisha Emperor from their home world Caladan to govern the Planet Arrakis after the Departure of House Harkonnen. If you haven’t read the book and this sentence sounds overly expositional and convoluted to you this is how you’re going to feel throughout 80% of the films dialogues. However, I’m sure you’re not going to see Dune for the dialogue and it has plenty to offer aside from that.

Director Denis Villeneuve wanted to make this a “Star Wars for adults” and with that he succeeded. Dune boasts impressive visuals and epic conflict but in a more mature manner than the Star Wars films. Instead of using colorful light sabers people are stabbing each other with actual knives. Still not much blood is seen, thanks to the film’s PG 13 rating, but that seems to be unavoidable in today’s industry. The Designs are kept very close to the book, especially the Ornithopters which actually have flapping wings unlike in previous adaptation by David Lynch. Some of it may be because of the improved technology after nearly 40 years but I believe the production designers were definitely trying to stay faithful to the source material. All in all the depictions of technology, lifeforms and other things will satisfy fans of the book, although the production design was a bit too monochromatic for my personal taste. The visual direction is similar to other works by Villeneuve: simple and effective. The camera itself is not here to show off. That’s what the Sandworms, spaceships and battles are for. The cinematography by Greig Fraser is dark and moody, which fits the more adult tone this film is going for.

Continuing with its mission to be an adult Star Wars, it’s also more complex editing wise with mystic visions by the protagonist Paul sprinkled throughout the film by Villeneuve’s frequent collaborator editor Joe Walker. The visual effects shots are done in similar manner to the rest of the camerawork. They are impressive but only there to move the story along and not at all show-offy. The hand to hand combat sequences, of which there are quite a few, most of which look very practical are impressive as well. One can clearly see the effort the actors put into making them appear so effortless. That also includes the main cast, no stunt doubles here! There is one early fight or rather training scene between Chalamet (Paul Atreides) and Brolin (Gurney Halleck) where their skills are put on full display.

Now the actors of which this film has many and many famous ones also did very well, even despite the fact that most of their job consists of spouting exposition and fighting. Rebecca Ferguson as Paul’s mother Lady Jessica being the clear standout and stealing every scene she’s in. Timothée Chalamet has his edgy teenager moment, which in this case fits the character who is still coming to terms with his new place in the complicated conflicts and power structures of Dune but doesn’t really have any other stand out moments. Zendaya, the other perhaps controversial star of this film, also doesn’t stand out much, neither in a negative nor positive way. Her character only really appears in the film towards the end so there’s not really enough to see for a final verdict.

Now on to the not so good aspects of the film. Although the conflict in Dune is still very complex and probably closer to Game of Thrones than Star Wars it’s still very simplified if not dumbed down compared to the complex political intrigues and power plays of the novel to fit the limited runtime of the film format. The complex world of the Dune universe also has to be explained to viewer somehow, which here is mostly done through expositional dialogue. The exposition is well integrated to the story as Paul, the protagonist is also learning about most of these things but it can become a bit overbearing as said before. This can leave viewers who are not familiar with the source material overwhelmed and confused about the particularities of the story and story world. Nevertheless the film should still be enjoyable as an epic sci fi tale about family, power and mysticism, even if it takes some time to understand surrounding lore. Hopefully this film will also motivate a new generation of Dune fans to dive into the world that Frank Herbert created in his books.

Written by German correspondent Leon Zitz.
Be sure to check out his Instagram to see what he’s working on!