Never has there been a more endlessly pretentious, self-serious slog of depressive, faux-intellectualism as Interstellar. Its hamfisted attempts at “science” and “love” are so misguided it leaves you feeling like humans are better off without either. Two hours of this **** is unbearable, but then it decides to do cinema’s most painful victory lap ever. Love is never having to say that time is just space is a house where a magnetic shift killed the corn and light on dusty books means your dad survived going through a black hole near Jupiter to say sorry.
Anonymous
Never has there been a more endlessly pretentious, self-serious slog of depressive, faux-intellectualism as Interstellar. Its hamfisted attempts at “science” and “love” are so misguided it leaves you feeling like humans are better off without either. Two hours of this **** is unbearable, but then it decides to do cinema’s most painful victory lap ever. Love is never having to say that time is just space is a house where a magnetic shift killed the corn and light on dusty books means your dad survived going through a black hole near Jupiter to say sorry.