Review of Aniara (2019) by Bertaut1 — 18 Sep 2019

The poem is a masterpiece of esoteric science-fiction literature; and this is an impressive adaptation.

The transitory nature of human existence, especially when set against the infinity of space and time, is a theme which has become more relevant in science fiction as we find ourselves facing an increasingly likely man-made extinction event. Adapted from Harry Martinson's 1956 poem of the same name, Aniara is about the crippling contemplation of meaninglessness that consumes the passengers of a vast spaceship set adrift in the void of space. The debut feature from writers/directors Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja, this is an exceptionally well made film. Sure, the characters are underdeveloped, and the science isn't exactly kosher, but it's morally complex and existentially challenging, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Set at an unspecified point in the future, humanity is making a new home on Mars. The Aniara is a massive vessel that takes passengers on the three-week trip from a lunar docking station to the red planet. As the film begins, we meet the unnamed protagonist (Emelie Jonsson); an employee on the Aniara, she is in charge of MIMA, a semi-sentient holodeck-like technology that can scan people's thoughts and allow them to experience whatever is best suited for their psyche. A week into the voyage, Captain Chefone (Arvin Kananian) is forced to jettison the nuclear core after a minor collision with space debris. However, the ship is now off-course, and without the core, the crew have no way of turning her around, leaving them drifting into the darkness of space.

Much as is the case with the poem, the film looks at issues such as the impermanence of human existence and the sense of meaninglessness that can result when mankind is faced with the eternity of time and space. It spends a good deal of time on the idea that human civilisation is a construct that we use to shield us from the bleak reality of our insignificance, and when it's removed, we revert to barbarism. The passengers on the Aniara are unable to stave off the malaise born from the hopelessness of their situation and the meaninglessness of their existence, and one of the most important lines is "everything we do is peripheral".

Depicted as half-mind control, half-narcotic, MIMA becomes vital post-collision, as people become dependent on her, with the wealthy amongst them trying to bribe their way in. When another employee is hired, the protagonist says she'll need to "teach them to resist the images", recalling the way employees in pharmaceutical factories are randomly drug-tested. At the same time, when a passenger proves unable to handle reality and becomes violent, he is forced to experience MIMA against his will and is rendered unconscious.

Another theme is mankind's destruction of Earth, with the possibility that we may colonise other worlds no longer seen as exploration, but as survival. This theme is never examined explicitly – we never learn when the film takes place, whether or not Earth has already died or is simply on the way, nor what sent us into the cosmos – but it's touched on obliquely throughout and is a good example of how the film engages with themes without necessarily foregrounding them.

In terms of problems, perhaps the most significant is the lack of character arcs (although this is also true of the poem). Does this leave the viewer with no characters with whom to empathise? Yes, to a certain extent it does, but this is by design; the film isn't asking us to fall in love with a cast of well-rounded characters, it's asking us to engage with it at an esoteric level.

The science also has some issues. If the Aniara wasn't built for long-term habitation, why are there so many amenities, why is the life-support system self-regulating, and why are the algae farms designed to produce food indefinitely? Additionally, Mars is (on average) 140 million miles from Earth, so for the Aniara to complete the journey in three weeks, she would need to travel at an average velocity of 277,777 mph. Newton's second law states that "force equals mass times acceleration", so the greater the mass and speed, the more force it takes to slow down, and the power needed to slow something as vast as Aniara (4,750 meters long and 891 meters wide) and moving at such a speed is virtually unfathomable.

Nevertheless, this is a very accomplished film, as aesthetically impressive as it is morally complex, as esoterically fascinating as it is unrelentingly despairing. Equal parts haunting and provocative, the picture it paints of a humanity faced with its own extinction isn't a pretty one, but it is an urgent one. And as we hurtle towards our own extinction, rapidly approaching the point where, like the Aniara, we will no longer be able to turn around, at that time, our future will consist of nothing but the indifferent darkness and deafening silence of the infinite.