Well, for one thing, at that point it was generally assumed that they would make it back alive. For another the impression was that they were really in the middle, most boring period of their trip when the movie begins. That's one thing that might not be clear enough; the dramatic arc is so tight that it seems like the events in the movie take place almost in real time, but actually quite a bit of movie-world time must have elapsed by the end. I think at the beginning of the movie they were near Mercury or roughly 2/3s of the way done with their trip, which if it takes a few years leaves more than a bit out.
As for Capa's remarks, I guess I just read them as an understandable mixture of 1) boredom at being in the middle of a long, confined space flight with still quite a ways to go before reaching his destination, 2) the fact that he genuinely misses Earth, and 3) some excitement but also a little natural awe and trepidation about the sun and the mission. It was also just an engaging and not too artificial way to squeeze in some more exposition. The fact that a character might have conflicting feelings doesn't necessarily make him inconsistent or fundamentally weak-willed. Not sure what else to say about it: I liked that scene.
Oh, I did too, and please don't misunderstand. I wouldn't say Capa, in this first scene, is the model example for what I consider to be his apprehensive, untrained, indecisive nature. In fact, there's virtually no trace of these qualities in his video journal. However, given his sudden heroic behavior at the end, I would expect his video journal to play a little bit more like Mace's video journal might have (regarding consistency of character). That's not to say I think Capa and Mace are comparable, or that a character can't change from one thing to something else. But if we're talking about a relatively short period of time between Act One and Act Three, not to mention some heavily disturbing experiences inbetween, I find Capa's video journal to be the first inkling of a character who, after unfolding for over an hour, resembles someone who would not have behaved as Capa does in the finale.
The conflict in that scene isn't over "the necessity of the mission" but whether or not diverting to Icarus I will give them a better chance to complete the mission than sticking to the original plan. Capa and Mace are at opposite extremes in terms of personality, call it a difference in confidence or a susceptibility to self-doubt, but I don't think that's the same as not seeing the mission as crucial.
I wasn't suggesting that Capa did not consider the mission a crucial one. However, the majority of Mace's very vocal dialogue in the film consists of the necessity for success above all else, and for me, that seemed to speak louder than Capa's relative silence. Like you say, this puts Capa and Mace at opposite ends of a personality scale, which to me doesn't match up with Capa's very Mace-like behavior in the end.
You seem to be asking whether Capa's unease about making that mission-altering decision early on is consistent with his focused determination at the end. I think it is and ascribe it to a difference in situations. In the first case Capa is forced to make a choice that could determine whether or not the mission succeeds, based on incomplete information. By the end there's really no question about what he needs to do or what the best way to complete the mission is, it's no longer him against a theoretical problem but him against a physical obstacle.
This is a good point, and I think I'll have to concede this one. I hadn't really thought about how the two situations were different, but you're right: in the finale, Capa's determination really stems from the fact that -- at that point -- questions were irrelevant, and the only task was safeguarding the payload's detonation. I'm not saying even a terrified weakling wouldn't do
something, and Capa's effort is not out of character. But it's the degree to which he exerts that effort and succeeds -- focused, resourceful, disciplined, experienced -- that I just don't really buy.
Again, he doesn't ultimately know if the bomb will work. Capa's a scientist so it's believable that he'd have trouble making a choice based on incomplete information. I think that what you perceive as disconnection (dispassion?) or deference to authority is actually just him grappling with the fact that given the unknowns he can't come up with a definite answer to a technical problem, and is uneasy with having that responsibility thrust on him.
Actually, I was referring to how Capa spends his time during that scene prior to having the Icarus I question posed to him. He does not participate in the discussion of diverting to Icarus I (though all others do). He says only, "They almost made it!" at the location of Icarus I, and then retires to a seat outside of the discussion circle. Realistically, he's only a physicist and it isn't his place to decide (though, ironically, the decision falls to him anyway). But aesthetically, that's a strong image. He isn't the leader. He isn't even a participant in the direction of the mission until it is demanded of him. To a viewer, especially when we're only seeing two hours of condensed footage of a larger story, that speaks volumes about a person's character.
That's an interesting point. I think Capa's reaction can be at least partly explained by the fact that while Mace has a point that Capa is partly responsible, his actions can also be read as antagonism, so he's not quite sure how to react. Ultimately I think he does the right thing.
I agree, and again the issue isn't with his decision, but with the aesthetic effect an indecisive, apprehensive Capa has on a viewer who is trying to piece his character together as the film moves along.
That may just be you're personal inference, but I don't think it's what Boyle and Garland intended, and I didn't read it that way. Re-watch the conversation inside the bomb between Capa and Cassie that occurs shortly after they return to Icarus II. He doesn't seem entirely motivated by altruism but he explicitly says he's not afraid of dying. I believed him.
And this is a good point of discussion, because it's a crucial line. I can say I believed him also, but implicitly, I think there's something to be said about the state of things at the time he said it. We could infer that Capa is doing one of three things: (a) reciting the sentiment he probably had when he left Earth, where things were dire but still far removed from the immediate threat of dying close to the Sun; (b) restating the sentiment after the debacle on Icarus II, but before the real threat (Pinbacker) had emerged and things were seemingly back on track with less breathers to worry about; or (c) affirming the statement under the belief that he really will die, and there is no turning back.
Of course, we could theorize all day which one it is and why, but I rather think that when people die around you, you might tend to feel more alive as a result. Moreover, it's easier to say you're not afraid to die when you're not really sure how it will be (or if you know it'll be a gazillion-megaton nuclear detonation, in which case you won't feel anything). But I don't imagine Capa was too enthusiastic about freezing in space, or later, being eviscerated by a skinless lunatic.
I think the much talked-about blurring comes into play here. I don't think it's just an effect to play with the audience's experience but supposed to be what the characters see as well. The way I read it is that Pinbacker's contact with the sun has not only warped his mind but actually physically altered him and given him an inhuman and supernatural quality that makes him hard to even look at. Given that I think it's believable how Capa would be startled by Pinbacker's attack.
I agree, and I'll concede this point. While I have my concerns about Pinbacker as a plot element (it seems
Sunshine operates like
2001: A Space Odyssey for most of its duration, and then suddenly turns into
Event Horizon at its finale), I think that initial encounter is real enough that I can vouch for your comments.
Maybe I'm just a bit more lax in what I accept as plausible behavior for a movie character. Yeah, I'll agree that Capa made a mistake by confronting Pinbacker unprepared. And Harry Dean Stanton shouldn't have wandered off alone in Alien, while we're at it. I guess that's a bit of a glib response after all the effort you put into this analysis, but at this point I just have to throw up my hands and say either you're going to be bothered by that and avoid most genre films or you ain't.
Well, normally, it wouldn't bother me (and it really doesn't bother me now); but this film in my view is largely about the nature of Man and his ability to overcome nature and environment to ensure his survival. Capa is clearly a focus of the film's attention here, and yet for me it becomes a numbers game: there are insufficient "hooks," if you will, in the illustration of Capa's character to justify his behavior at the end.
Overall I think you're overstating it though. Capa is "a tulip seed" who turns into "a daisy"? Couldn't you also say that it's surprising that a tiny seed (or bulb) can actually sprout into a tulip?
You could, but to me the design of the film doesn't lend itself to one character's growth. We're talking about a relatively short period of plot time, and we've also got an ensemble cast of characters who undergo little or no growth from beginning to end. As I said above, Capa is clearly Garland's focus, and he's the only character in which we can see even an inkling of growth instilled in him, and that's fine. But it seems to me that in the end, he doesn't grow so much as change from one thing to another. For the entire film, he's Capa. For the last fifteen minutes, he's Mace.
Continuing with this vocabulary, isn't it enough that the Tulip is "implicit" in the seed, or do you need an "explicitly" labeled package?
The question of implicit and explicit is a difficult one under this film which only reveals so much. Inferences have to made, of course, but I'm not sure Garland intended to place much of a burden to infer on the viewer. He's an explicit writer, and his characters can often be taken at face value. Particularly in this film, there really aren't any other agendas on the table than completing the mission, so the predictability factor is high. The characters are introduced, and behave as much as you'd expect them to, and the information we are given is all the information we really need. That's my opinion, anyway.
What did you think about Searle's behavior - particularly when Kaneda dies? Do you think it was an unhealthy obsession or was it something else (perhaps trying to understand what might have happened to the people on Icarus I? I don't think it's mentioned in the movie but on the commentary Boyle actually says that there wasn't a Psych Officer on-board the first mission.) Frankly I thought this, and also Capa's ambiguous fear mixed with fascination (that's not the right word but my capacity for words seems a bit fried at the moment) of the Sun and the bomb were at least as interesting themes/aspects of the character as any question of his bravery.
I liked Searle a lot. He seemed like a genuinely enthusiastic personality, and I think he was obsessed with the mythos of the Sun and all the philosophic questions about nature, life, existence, and determination his type of personality would ultimately raise. In terms of ensemble, I think it's clear he was the thinker (perhaps comparable to Pinbacker, although I think Searle was capable of keeping things together just fine). In fact, it seems that "thinker" aspect of Capa was magnified by ten in Searle, and I like that. I mean, that beautiful scene in the observation room where everyone looks at Mercury... it's that adventurer's sense of wonder and identity which comes out of any discovery scenario like this one. That was a strength of the film for me.
That's interesting. My recent love for Sunshine makes me want to re-watch 28 Days Later and also see The Beach. So The Beach is based on a novel, also by Garland? If so, I think I'll check that out too.
Yeah,
The Beach was Garland's first novel -- written at 25 -- and it's excellent. The film deviates a bit, which is interesting since he penned the screenplay himself, and the end is completely different. All in all, the film communicates the major themes of the book, but not in the same overwhelmingly shocking ways. But I love the book, and definitely recommend it.