"Aniara" Will Keep You Awake

I don't think I would have watched the Swedish sci-fi film "Aniara" if I'd realized how nihilistic and emotionally punishing it is. The movie is likely the best existential space horror I've ever seen, one of the growing number of cinematic arguments for nobody ever entertaining the notion of space travel again.

Based on an epic poem about a lost spacecraft, written in the 1950s, "Aniara" is the directing debut of Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja. The city-sized spaceship Aniara sets out on a three week journey from a blighted planet Earth to Mars, ferrying colonists, but is soon knocked off course with no ability to stop itself or turn around. We watch events unfold from the point of view of a woman identified only by her profession, the Mimaroben (Emelie Jonssson). Stark chapter titles measure out time increments as the passengers and crew try adapt to continuously deteriorating circumstances aboard the drifting vessel, and the hope of rescue becomes increasingly remote.

I've seen several pieces of media with a similar narrative, including "HIgh LIfe" last year. None, however, have been as mercilessly bleak as "Aniara." Essentially, it wants to examine how people behave in the face of inevitable doom, about the cycles of hope and despair, and about the different approaches and philosophies that individuals deploy to try and persevere. The Mimaroben is the operator of a therapeutic service where a sentient alien organism, called the Mima, allows users to relive their past memories on Earth in a trance-like state. After the accident, the Mima becomes a hugely important coping tool. The Mimaroben, however, finds happiness in a relationship with Isagel (Bianca Cruzeiro), one of the ship's former pilots. Other characters include the ship's Captain, Chefone (Arvin Kananian), who often employs misinformation to improve morale and keep order, and the morosely cynical Astronomer (Anneli Martini), who remains the most stubbornly realistic about their plight.

All the characters are pretty thinly drawn, but considering that "Aniara" takes a macroscopic view of the plot, and is more concerned with cataloguing the larger, systemic changes that are happening to the ship, this isn't too serious a flaw. The Mimaroben's love story, with all of its dramatic ups and downs, is a perfectly fine focal point, and Emelie Jonssson delivers a sympathetic performance. Clearly, however, the filmmakers were more interested in exploring the tenuous world and society of the Aniara. The spaceship is designed to look like a hotel or cruise ship, and doesn't bother with most of the common Hollywood science-fiction flourishes. The most striking images all involve human elements - people using the Mima room, cult members engaging in a sex ritual, and scenes of mass mourning. So, a relatively small budget and strategic use of CGI are made to go a long way. With its shoestring aesthetics "Aniara" often feels like the indie film rebuke to the more flashy and expensive "Passengers."

I admire how efficient the storytelling is, the way it introduces or suggests all of these different facets to the strange little society that develops on Aniara. We get brisk exposition explaining where the oxygen, water, and food come from, and what's required to maintain them. There are brief encounters with cults, students, prisoners, and various workers. There could definitely be more material in this vein, and this is where the limited nature of the production is the most apparent, but there's enough to indicate that the writers meticulously thought through how these different elements would function, and how the scenarios would play out. And the filmmakers are very good at showing how the mood aboard the ship progresses from one period to the next, the way the environments change and people' behaviors change. Even the simple exterior shots of the Aniara in space grow more and more ominous over time.

I have to give the movie all due credit for going all in on the nihilism. On the other hand, it's plain to see why so few movies go this route. It's utterly crushing to watch the characters having their hopes destroyed over and over again. Similar social microcosm films like "High Rise" and "Snowpiercer" offer some hope in the end, but "Aniara" is totally uninterested in this. And so, I feel compelled to deliver a warning to other viewers who might be too prone to dark, existential thoughts. You might want to approach "Aniara" with caution. This one doesn't take any prisoners.

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