Henry
Martinson is the awkward Nobel laureate. He and a Swedish compatriot were on
the selection committee that year, so everyone assumed the fix was in. The
resulting gossip and criticism drove him to suicide. He would be better remembered
as one of the few laureates who experimented with science fiction, along with
Doris Lessing. His science fiction epic poem (103 cantos) would be a daunting
challenge to adapt for the big screen, but Pella Kagerman & Hugo Lilja capture
a sense of Martinson’s melancholy and existential angst in Aniara, which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.
In
a way, the Aniara is like the S.S. Minnow on a galactic scale (they were on a
23-day voyage, a 23-day voyage). It
was a space shuttle that turned into a generation ship. The Aniara was supposed
to ferry a lucky shipload of passengers from a dying Earth to the new colonies on
Mars. Unfortunately, a freak accident blew out the engines and sent it hurtling
off course. There is enough power to maintain life support, gravity, and the
self-sustaining food stores, but that cannot maneuver. The flight crew hopes
they can use the gravity of a planet to sling shot them back towards Mars, but
they have no idea when they will approach one at close enough range.
Frankly,
Captain Chefone does not inspire much confidence. He turns out to be an
instinctive martinet, who often optimistic assurances frequently crater into dust.
Isagel, his science officer, is his polar opposite. Clear-eyed in her
assessments, but prone to pessimism, she will find herself consigned to the
brig along with her lover, the “Mimaroben.” Her job was to maintain the “Mima,”
a rough equivalent of the holodeck, which projected pictures of Earth from its
pristine past to sooth passengers’ homesickness. Unfortunately, the Mimaroben
was scapegoated for its untimely demise. However, as the years pass, Chefone
will need her skills and those of Isagel, allowing them to supposedly restart their
lives together—if such is possible on the Aniara.
Opinions will vary.
It
is surprisingly unsettling to watch the years roll by on the Aniara and to
observe the social changes that occur, as well as the resulting physical wear-and-tear
wrought on the ship itself. We see cults rise, personalities implode, hopes rise
and fall, and social structures break-down. Arguably, this is the closest we
will probably ever get to see an Olaf Stapledon’s galactic history novels
adapted on-screen (which would probably be even more difficult to adapt than
Martinson’s epic poem, but Kagerman & Lilja are certainly welcome to try).
Emelie
Jonsson covers an unusually broad emotional spectrum for science fiction, or
any respectable genre for that matter. As the Mimaroben, she swings from
despondent to empowered and then back again, several times over. Bianca
Cruzeiro’s portrayal of Isagel could be considered a case study for why
intelligent people get depressed more frequently. Arvin Kananian’s work as Chefone
is even more intriguing. He is a despot to Isagel and the Mimaroben, but he
clearly believes every decision he makes is in the best interest of the
collective group. In fact, it would be rather fascinating to watch the film
remade from his perspective.