I.S.S. review: Ariana DeBose’s sci-fi outing fails to achieve liftoff

Ever since Georges Méliès sent audiences out of orbit in 1902 with A Trip To The Moon, filmmakers have been busy crafting distinctly textured space-themed stories, ranging from tender to terrifying. It’s a setting that provides claustrophobic tension and awe-inducing wonder, as well as giving space (pun intended) for drama and characters to flourish. So it’s unfortunate that director Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s I.S.S. fails to take full advantage of not just the location, but also its narrative function when building its stakes, smarts, and scares. Set aboard an international space station where six passengers engage in a war for control, the film neglects to include fresh, heady ideas after its interesting premise arises, denying us of any satisfying gravitational pull.

When we first meet nervous Dr. Kira Foster (Ariana DeBose), she and scientist Christian (John Gallagher Jr.) are rocketing into space to join commanding American astronaut Gordon (Chris Messina) and Russian cosmonaut Weronika (Masha Mashkova), Commander Nicholai (Costa Ronin) and science officer Alexey (Pilou Asbæk) on board the International Space Station. They’ll be cohabitating in this far-off facility, leading the charge for research in medicine and technology. It’s a dream environment for some, although Kira and Christian are both concerned about their isolated situation and uneasy alliance with those already on board. And, as it turns out, they have every right to be.

After their initial honeymoon period, getting to know the layout of the vessel as well as each team member’s eccentric quirks and hot-button issues, they spot a nuclear war erupting on Earth. This wipes out both Russian and U.S. communications systems, leaving both sides with a final message: a directive to seize control of the station by any means necessary. Making matters worse, an electromagnetic pulse decimates their electricity, causing the I.S.S. to lose altitude and risk falling from the sky. A battle to gain the upper hand ensues, involving everything from deceit to murder, with Kira caught in the middle, unsure what to do and who to believe is on her side.

If audiences expect they’ll see heated arguments between the characters as they ponder and strategically debate their best chances for survival, they’d better think again. It’s a genuine disappointment that Cowperthwaite and screenwriter Nick Shafir instead gift us with a rote, reductive story where people are picked off one by one (and, to hurry the proceedings along, two at once). Characters choose to either trust or betray each other on careless whims and there’s little to no growth developed over the film’s thankfully brief run time. These trained astronauts, who we assume were adequately prepped for every nightmare scenario before being sent to space, begin making one dumb decision after another. It stretches credulity, as well as our patience.

Gordon’s rookie mistake not securing his safety harness while fixing a broken antenna outside the ship leads to a tense and memorable (albeit not original) sequence. But it’s hard to buy given what we know about this cautious character. His assumed death, basically written off with a shrug by these quick-thinking minds, is bafflingly believed. When suspicions begin to arise, as they usually do in thrillers of this ilk, we’re already 20 steps ahead. By the third act, it’s absolute nonsense that’s unspooling. Women support women, until they conveniently don’t. Plus, there’s a whole cringey callback involving a chintzy trinket Christian gives Kira that’s essentially Chekov’s Gift Shop Purchase.

Kira’s motivations exasperatingly flip-flop and it becomes tough to stay tethered to her quest. Cowperthwaite, a documentarian who’s directed a fictional female-forward feature before and kept hyper-focused on the feminine arc in Megan Leavey, experiences difficulty keeping a steady eye on her protagonist’s struggles and psyche. It’s hard to get a read on what the faux-hawked feminist is thinking, since she panics easily and lacks logical reactions to the escalating madness which, again, makes us question how she passed the psychological testing phase of her training.

DeBose—a radiant, charismatic actress—elevates the role as much as the material allows, bringing an open-hearted vulnerability to her queer heroine. However, there’s a distinct dullness to Kira’s construction, a one-dimensionality that falters when digging beneath her surface for what informs and motivates her. Sadly, capable supporting actors like Messina, Asbæk, and Gallagher, are also dealt similar slights, where we’re not given reasons to genuinely care about their characters.

The film’s aesthetics fare better than the drama on display. Camerawork simulating zero gravity looks and feels immersive. Anne Nikitin’s score does a lot of the heavy lifting delivering moody atmosphere to the picture. Her compositions, utilizing prickly symphonic strings and dark, foreboding instruments, perfectly underscore threats, sorrow, and menace. Cinematographer Nick Remy Matthews pulls hints of inspiration from Alien’s lighting cues. Visual effects are gorgeously styled and clean-lined, providing a backdrop filled with brutality and beauty.

After the first act, it’s impossible to believe that these uber-intelligent spacefarers, who see their countries engaged in fiery nuclear warfare, can’t realize their directives are worthless as there’s no home or government to which they can return—and that’s if they even survive the perilous escape. Their obvious objective, apparent to everyone except them, should be to work together to make it out alive. Yet the filmmakers fight against this co-existence, in defiance of the characters they’ve established. As the aforementioned Alien’s tagline reads, “In space no one can hear you scream”—but maybe the I.S.S. filmmakers will hear the audience scream out of pure frustration.

I.S.S. opens in theaters on January 19