Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
You can taste the exsiccation of the dust whispering in the background. The futuristic notes of Hans Zimmer marry the nostalgic organ-like sound of the score in an oxymoronic palimpsest of present. "My dad was a farmer. Like everybody else back then. Of course, he didn't start that way."
I was sceptical about Interstellar; man leaves daughter, emotion, to fly away in a rocket to space, dystopian sci-fi music in background, or so was the impression I remembered from a rushed trailer viewing on IMDB. But it's so much more than that. It's so much more than your A-grade Hollywood epic. It's so good, it's so real.
We are now in the middle of a long process of transform in the nature of the image which man has of himself and of his environment.
- Kenneth E Building, The Economics of the Coming Spaceship Earth, 1966
Interstellar is not just about humanity; it's about Cooper securing a future for his children; it's about Murph seeing her dad again, alive and well, knowing that he did not abandon her.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
- Kenneth E Building, The Economics of the Coming Spaceship Earth, 1966
In 1988, Margaret Thatcher commented that we, the human species, 'have unwittingly begun a massive experiment with the system of this planet itself'. I've written many words on global warming, climate change, ignorance, Malthus, Boserup et cetera, and I'm not going to tangent into that again. Now I'm talking about the elusive I, myself. Yourself. The inner, solitary, egoistic I.
Interstellar.
Interstellar is, and discusses, many things, but it is not assumptive and it is not forceful. It's a media of question. What are we going to do with this planet? Are there other organisms, homo sapiens, out there? Are we alone? Is there another habitable world? What is sustainability? Will we go gentle into that good night? Besides the physics behind the concept of Interstellar (which I am determined to read into) and the heart-wrenching motif of love, one scene in particular, with its prerequisite preluding themes and connections, stood out; Cooper, Dr Brand and crew have landed on their chosen planet, identified in an earlier mission by the duplicitous Dr Mann as suitable for habitation and colonisation by man, and woken Dr Mann from his induced sleep. Dr Brand receives a relayed message from earth, sent by Cooper's daughter, Murph: her father is dead. And did they know that there was no way to save the people on earth, the current generation? That plan A is faux, and Professor Brand has duped them into leaving to start a new colony? Here is the first I in sustainability: Professor Brand willingly stayed on earth and dedicated his life to plan B, colonisation, for the rest of mankind. But only one has a future; those on earth are discarded. The second I: Cooper sacrifices his life on earth, though unbeknownst to him, for the future of his children, and mankind. Once you're a parent, you're the ghost of your children's future. The third I comes later in the scene: Dr Mann has taken Cooper to see the surface, where the planet shows suitable elements for the prospect of colonisation. But then he turns and rips Cooper's long-range transmitter off, pushes him over a cliff and smashes his helmet. Sustainability? This planet was never suitable, I resisted the temptation, for years, but, I knew that, if I just pressed that button, then, somebody would come and save me. Me, myself, and the elusive I.
The phrase, whether in academic journals or the sound bites of politicians, very often proves to have no coherent theoretical core and no clear and consistent meaning (Redclift 1987). The very simplicity of the phrase allows users to make high-sounding statements that are vague in meaning. It's flexibility adds to its attraction.
- VM Adams, Green Development: Environment and Sustainability in a Developing World, 2008
The phrase, whether in academic journals or the sound bites of politicians, very often proves to have no coherent theoretical core and no clear and consistent meaning (Redclift 1987). The very simplicity of the phrase allows users to make high-sounding statements that are vague in meaning. It's flexibility adds to its attraction.
- VM Adams, Green Development: Environment and Sustainability in a Developing World, 2008
The discussion about our relationship with the earth is conventionally moulded around the rhetoric of children, guilt, and responsibility; the idea that, as Cooper says, we are the ghosts of our children's future. It's the relationship between Murph and Cooper which gives Interstellar its depth, which makes you sit up in your bed, heart pounding, as Dr Mann smashes his helmet, which accelerates your breathing as you watch him sink into the abyss of Gargantua. But it's not the old Murph, sat in bed surrounded by her family, that you feel empathy for. It's the young Murph, low bun, inquiring eyes, who sits in her bed, dust encroaching outside, and analyses the messages from her ghost: s.t.a.y. The present Murph. How do we feel empathy for something that is not? Look to the refugee exodus flooding Europe right now; it's easy to glance over the block headlines, the repeated pictures of masses around railway stations, and the 2 minute videos of people pleading for help. Do we empathise with the mass? No. It's obvious in the diction used in their discussion: 'swarm', 'crises', 'illegal'. And then that picture of the child, washed up on a beach in Bodrum, face down. Suddenly it was no longer a 'crises' but a 'duty' to 'humanity' to help the exodus. A singular I, a present I, warranted the lacking attention. This is the largest mass exodus since WW2, since the socio-political displacement of millions by ideological racism and war itself which we're all quick to offer sympathy for and think we would have been a Corrie Ten Boom or an Oskar Schindler, and yet, it is only one boy, a singular, solitary photo, which deems it worth our humanity.
In the same way, if we think about ourselves and our own future, the future of our mom, or our dad, or our friend, doesn't sustainability take on a new dimension? Doesn't it become that much more relevant, more urgent? Yes, sustainability does concern future generations, and we are in debt to their well-being, but it also concerns our own well-being, and if it's the present, the singular, the photo of a young boy, the I, that is going to gain attention and urgency, perhaps that's a more effective way to relay messages and awareness.
If we look at ourselves, our own relationships, then perhaps we can extend beyond ourselves to those in the situations we only imagine.
In the same way, if we think about ourselves and our own future, the future of our mom, or our dad, or our friend, doesn't sustainability take on a new dimension? Doesn't it become that much more relevant, more urgent? Yes, sustainability does concern future generations, and we are in debt to their well-being, but it also concerns our own well-being, and if it's the present, the singular, the photo of a young boy, the I, that is going to gain attention and urgency, perhaps that's a more effective way to relay messages and awareness.
If we look at ourselves, our own relationships, then perhaps we can extend beyond ourselves to those in the situations we only imagine.
Interstellar is not just about humanity; it's about Cooper securing a future for his children; it's about Murph seeing her dad again, alive and well, knowing that he did not abandon her.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
C
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