'Spaceman' Review: Netflix Drama Soars Among the Stars
Adam Sandler has taken on a small helping of dramatic roles in recent years, taking many moviegoers by surprise with his legitimate range and ability in a more serious space. Uncut Gems saw a hectic Sandler in full-on panic mode, never dropping his sleazy grin even as life as he knew it fell apart. Hustle was a different endeavor; Sandler channeled his well-known love of basketball into a role that demanded it. It’s a classic trainer/player story that went over well in a genre that hasn’t seen much action in the last decade or so. Now, posit Spaceman - a deceivingly simple drama that does more than drink and dribble. Questions of love, time and space, and redemption float aimlessly among the stars, away from a grounded Sandler who may have just delivered his best performance yet. This is a vehicle for his performance, and as he delivers, Spaceman comes up all aces. This is a staggering release for Netflix.
Across from Sandler, Paul Dano is remarkable as Hanuš in what is perhaps the most uniquely difficult voice acting role imaginable. He plays a spider-like creature as old as time, one that speaks English but, presumably, should sound like it doesn’t quite understand it. Dano reflects Sandler’s melancholy in the dialogue he returns to him, meshing a sense of awe with one of gradual depression. The two together make for the film’s driving source of power, one that could fuel a hundred of these things and never get old. Carey Mulligan is expectedly great as Lenka, Jakub’s (Sandler) estranged wife.
When the film isn’t dwelling on the cardinal questions of existence with Jakub and Hanuš, it’s spring boarding off of those conversations in fragmented explorations of Jakub and Lenka’s broken marriage. It is a tragic suggestion that draws so much sadness throughout, and then a hopeful discovery that rounds the whole thing off. The experience may induce emotional whiplash, but the ride alone is worth the aches and pain.
Screenwriter Colby Day, in what is somehow his first feature release, pens a marvelous script. Many of these memorable character interactions are cemented in his dialogue; he consistently traps characters so that they’ll have to face specific issues, but he always manages to be ever so subtle in delivering these ideals. The chief among them seems to be love, in that it is woven into the very fabric of this universe. In one sequence, it appears to take a physical form, along with much else, and shoot across the screen, manifested in comforting colors and soft light. In that, director Johan Renck is right there with him. The two create a seamless aesthetic across the frame and page, never stopping to struggle for pace or a point.
Renck establishes weary visuals from the beginning; even the most grandiose sequences feel a little hopeless, aside from one consistent outlier that you’ll have to see for yourself. Yellows and browns shape lightless rooms in interactions with Jakub and the team of guides he reports to back on Earth. Colors are similarly drab when Lenka is on screen, but windows break the visuals up a bit, allowing light to spill on her face. Even Jakub, despite being in the same environment, always looks a little different when Lenka is in the mix. In every way, the film is a technical spectacle.
Where it struggles is in a tone that just feels a little too unfamiliar to the rest of the film. There are a couple odd, one-off sequences or apparent attempts at humor that throw the carefully accrued vibes off for a stretch; even if they are few and far between, they’re worth mentioning as confusing diversions in an experience that is almost completely harmonious otherwise. There is something delightful, even playful, in the undertone of exploration throughout the film, but it simply doesn’t translate well when unearthed. Not distracting, per say, but notable nonetheless.
Further, many have noted the film’s overarching familiarity with films of similar nature. This, to an extent, may be true; there are bits of projects past strewn about, rearing their heads every now and again to remind you that you’ve seen something like this before. But the point is, or should be, that you still haven’t seen this. Complaints about that familiarity overlook the value that this specific angle to a story such as this one brings. Spaceman does well in covering ground in a new way, even if it has been covered before. At the center of the story is the concept of redemption, drawn only and necessarily from second chances.
Nobody is perfect; at some point, whether it be in a minuscule issue or a towering mistake, you’ll likely have to ask for forgiveness, for a second chance, in hopes to be redeemed by the one you’ve wronged. Spaceman isolates the human condition and downright interrogates it. Jakub is all of us at one point or another and, in any case, when the final antidote is presented as pure love, it’s hard not to be convinced.
Spaceman is the kind of film we need, as corny as that may sound. It’s one to keep on the shelf (Netflix, please put out a Blu-ray) and reference when things get bleak; in the film’s finale, things are kept relatively opaque for this reason. There is a statement to be made beyond these characters, toyed with throughout the film and eventually encapsulated in a final shot that you could frame on your wall. For a Netflix original especially, in an age of low-grade comedies reliant on poor tropes and questionable special effects, Spaceman is a miracle.
Of course, Sandler is making a case for his career with this one too. If you weren’t already convinced of his ability beyond comedy, Spaceman is the final screw in the spaceship; don’t be surprised to see him operating in similar works going forward, and with more regularity. Put simply, Spaceman is a great film that takes an honest yet hopeful look at humanity, suggesting along the way that we’d all likely be better off if we did the same.