Supernova

Movies are strange. Even when they don’t pass the bar on all things adequate storytelling they can still make an impression. So many movies drift through the deep space of late night viewings on cable or as bargain-bin DVDs that one might watch on impulse after work, after the lights go out, or maybe on a lazy Sunday afternoon. They’re free from baggage, zero expectations – you find yourself not really caring whether or not they rise to the level of greatness. From this indifference comes a calmness, a kind of cine-zen state of mind where often within said forgettable films hidden potentials reveal themselves.

Supernova is a clunky, stitched together sci-fi that centers around a six-member crew medical ship, the Nightingale 229, who receives a distress call from a far off galaxy–amidst a rogue moon and dying star–then sets out to rescue only to find a sole survivor and his smuggled treasure, a mysterious alien artifact. The director is Walter Hill, who is credited with the pseudonym Thomas Lee (an Alan Smithee variant) in an effort to distance himself from the project. Clearly, there were problems behind the scenes, most likely due to the usual creative differences between filmmaker and studio execs. Or maybe Hill could just never get the long-since recycled script to work proper. The film was subject to re-edits and, allegedly, Frances Ford Coppola was the guy left with salvaging what he could.

One can only guess what and/or how much additional material never made it into the final cut. There’s a strong enough setup and a story to be told, but the proceeding narrative is so malnourished that all we’re left with are an assortment of repetitive scenes that merely service worn thin clichés from psychopath thrillers and the outer space isolation horror subgenre. The additional surrounding cast has little to do other than exposit techno-babble and react accordingly to their impending doom. Actually, that’s not true. Robin Tunney and Lou Diamond Philips copulate like bunnies whilst Wilson Cruz plays chess with the ship’s female computer named Sweetie, with a hint of romance. A potentially great Robert Forrester, with a potentially intriguing subplot, all but cameos his part as the ship’s captain before exiting stage left and Peter Facinelli acts as the villain with all the menace of a CW vampire. 

Thankfully, the main casting appeal rest on the shoulders of the film’s two leads who show natural chemistry for one another. James Spader is the ship’s co-pilot Nick Vanzant and Angela Basset as the head medical officer Dr. Kaela Evers. In recent years Spader's (small)screen persona has been defined almost exclusively by his Boston Legal stint as the pudgy, smug, liberal ranting lawyer. Before then, going back to his early career, he mostly saddled himself with similar characters from yuppie to geeky to narcissistic, and even a little homosexual. Here, smack-dab in the middle of his then still ongoing attempt to achieve A-list stardom, Spader took his one and only shot at the bulked up leading man action hero tough guy, but with a Spader twist. His Vanzant character is a limbo recovering drug addict with the driest of irreverence, and Spader lubricates every line of dialogue with understated charm and acerbic wit. His transfixed gaze denotes a complex and intelligent inner being that well adorns the spacey setting.

Basset continues her hardened black woman exterior, a no-nonsense doctor who keeps her proximity with others professional; that is, until Vanzant smoothly courts her over a couple of intimate exchanges and a bottle of brandy (with a grown pear inside, making for easy small talk). In fact, intimacy is something of a central theme throughout the film. And this is where Supernova gels. There's groovy sensual vibe that casually opens and closes the movie; aforementioned generic suspense is better left secondary as mere filler. The alien artifact that drives the conflict is a shell encased 9th dimensional property that glows erotic and seduces all who come near it. Long term exposure yields rejuvenation and super strength, but its real purpose seems to be a reboot bomb with a blast radius that spreads throughout the universe, replacing old life with new – at once both total destruction and total creation, not unlike the Genesis Devise from Wrath of Khan.

Following the theme of sexual interplay amidst the varying characters, the artifact's supernova explosion, near the film's end, can be taken as the ultimate orgasm and conception. This “climax” is even juxtaposed with a last ditched-effort to escape via hyper-jump where Spader and Basset must share nude the one remaining pod, at the risk molecular transfusion--which does in fact happen in a manner contrived but thematically resonate none-the-less.

Those familiar with Hill's work will note that the directorial style for this film is oddly opaque. Steadicam and handheld close-ups dominate the shot-flow along with many a loosed Dutch angles, as a means to stay personal to the characters while keeping the tone precarious. It's all rather cluttered and amateurish, really, best serving the quiet scenes between Spader and Basset, but ultimately seems the product of a first time director from today's TV generation; not Hill, with his penchant for sturdy Peckinpah framing and editing (nor will you find any of his signature black’n’white flashbacks). The sets and environments feel like fragmented background blurs and there's virtually no attempt to impress with graphic compositions.

However, this kinda works for the better, given the casual floaty atmosphere these characters inhabit. Production-wise the Nightingale's interior is ornate with curvy corridors and a color scheme of vibrant blues, pinks and purples that resembles a neon-techno tanning salon – perhaps as a final salute to 1990s aesthetic. The first 15 minutes acts as a prologue to the opening title credit, which isn't a credit at all but a rapid montage of the events yet to come that flashes by precognitive during the ship's first hyper-jump, while the actual title sequence comes at film's end as a sort of denouement in-and-of-itself. I suspect this one saving grace edit was that of Coppola's contribution as opposed to his infamous zero-gravity sex scene tinkering, but who knows?

Overall, Supernova has lousy piecemeal and nonsensical plotting, aimless subplots, a silly antagonist and some uninspired futuristic settings and technologies (sporting the lamest robot in movie history!) It’s nothing short of a mitigated disaster. Yet it does have a surprisingly effective ambiance and sound emotional logic thanks largely to its two leads and the way the surrounding story thematically accentuates their relationship. This is actually a fine movie to watch with your girlfriend, when watching a movie for movie’s sake is not the objective.