Nihilism and the Sublime in the Five Greatest Space Films
“The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent. If we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death, our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light. . . . If man merely sat back and thought about his impending termination, and his terrifying insignificance and aloneness in the cosmos, he would surely go mad, or succumb to a numbing sense of futility. Why, he might ask himself, should he bother to write a great symphony, or strive to make a living, or even to love another, when he is no more than a momentary microbe on a dust mote whirling through the unimaginable immensity of space.”—Stanley Kubrick
So here we are in the year 2017, almost fifty years since Stanley Kubrick suggested in his groundbreaking film 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) that a space-based future would become a reality by the start of the 21st century. Despite the stunning triumphs of the Apollo program and the compelling vision of Kubrick’s masterpiece, decades of declining popular interest in space exploration have followed. Though the Hubble Space Telscope continues to blow our minds, we’re not even remotely close to achieving the vision of 2001. Most people seem to care little about that vision, as illustrated by the recent presidential election in America, the insane revival of the Cold War, and the endless tribalisms of the Terror War. What happened?
The Specter of the Monolith
Space exploration raises the most fundamental questions about human existence, including our meaning as a species and our hopes for the future. The profound discoveries we’ve made over the past century about our vast and ancient universe invoke the challenges of nihilism and the sublime, which are almost completely overlooked in discussions of space exploration. As illustrated by Apollo and the Hubble telescope, NASA’s grand achievements — at once astounding and humbling — have collectively destroyed the pre-Copernican narratives humans use to explain their origins and destinies. Rock star cosmologist Brian Cox calls it “our ascent into insignificance.” Ultimately, these are the existential conditions confronted in the five greatest space films: 1) 2001, 2) Interstellar (2014), 3) Planet of the Apes (1968), 4) Gravity (2013), and The Martian (2015). Gravity and The Martian are interchangeable on this list, though the recent film Arrival (2016) might displace one of them. [I have had only one viewing of Arrival, which is not nearly enough to develop an in-depth analysis.]
We know we’re no longer the center of the universe and may be utterly meaningless in the grand cosmic scheme. We’re just in denial, clinging to iPhones and Gods as we hurtle through the cosmos on Spaceship Earth. As a species, we have ventured into the sublime of the universe and retreated from the nihilism, our minds blown but our philosophy paralyzed in the specter of the monolith.
With the phrase “specter of the monolith,” I am naming a complex existential moment — the simultaneous experience of the sublime (awesomeness) and nihilism (meaninglessness) when contemplating the vastness of the cosmos as revealed by science. For example, when we view the Hubble Deep Field images, our aesthetic sense grasps their beauty while our reason affirms their scale and splendor, yet our minds are blown and we end up intellectually paralyzed by what it means for our species, the earthlings with big brains and a yearning for significance a d relevance. We peer into the awe-inspiring grandeur of the universe, yet sensing nihilism and meaninglessness we retreat from any new possibilities offered by the cosmic blank slate. Astride the abyss between now and what’s possible, we get vertigo and leap back into the traditional narratives that order life on Earth, even if those narratives are completely false. As explained in my book, Specter of the Monolith (2017), this powerful concept is evident in the cultural responsesin the themes of the greatest space films in history. I also developed a short video homage to 2001 that illustrates this concept and honors the 50th anniversary of 2001.
The black monolith is a symbol for the challenges described by Kubrick. Like it or not, we live an expanding universe reaching back about 13.7 billion years yet stretching across 100 billion light years and populated with 2 trillion galaxies. These are our cosmic existential conditions, as revealed by space exploration and the scientific cosmology that ranks as our species greatest intellectual accomplishment. In my view, there is no turning back, no delete button, no exit from confronting these conditions and embracing the challenges. If we cannot overcome the specter of the monolith, then, as Jean-Francois Lyotard wrote, we will remain little more than “a spasmodic state of energy, an instant of established order, a smile on the surface of matter in a remote corner of the cosmos.”
“A Rope Over An Abyss”
In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche speculated that since humans are the species that evolved from apes, there might be an equally superior species that would evolve from humans — what he termed the “Ubermensch” or “Superman.” For Nietzsche, “man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman — a rope over an abyss.” If so, what will emerge in the next stage of human evolution? What comes next?
That’s the question Kubrick poses at the end of 2001, with Dave pointing at the monolith while on his deathbed. After we pass through the void of the monolith, the Star-Child appears against the blackness of the cosmos, Earth literally rising in his gaze. As a space-faring species, what will humans make of themselves in an awe-inspiring universe with unlimited possibility? That’s the question posed by the five greatest space films: 1) 2001, 2) Interstellar (2014), 3) Planet of the Apes (1968), 4) Gravity (2013), The Martian (2015). How these films confronted this question and others are summarized in the table below.
Space Films: What Can We Hope For?
In the cosmic sense, it is amazing that we exist and create films like 2001 and Interstellar. It is perfectly causal and scientific yet still incredible that the universe produced the human species, that hydrogen atoms evolved for 13.7 billion years to produce advanced simians aware of their own existence and the universe beyond themselves, capable of experiencing cosmic beauty and contemplating its place in this vast and ancient cosmos.
Our struggles with nihilism and lack of a new cosmic narrative in our greatest space films are summarized in the tables below (which are a single two-page table in my book).
— Is human civilization ultimately doomed in the face of perpetual tribal warfare, where creationist monkeys prevail over science and secularism — the massive cultural reversal symbolized in Planet of the Apes?
— Will our space weaponry and space debris render us no longer a space-faring species, as suggested in Gravity?
— In Planet of the Apes, the humans are mute and ignorant, while in Gravity we are left cosmically blinded, with our most powerful “eyes” destroyed.
— Will we continue on the path of ecological destruction and intellectual devolution suggested in Interstellar?
— Philosophically motivated by 2001 and Interstellar, will we not wait until our extinction is imminent to confront the cosmic sublime and explore new meanings within the awe and annihilation?
— Will we cooperate as a scientific species to colonize to Mars, as symbolized in The Martian?
Most idealistically, could be we become the civilization of peaceful space farers and space tourists portrayed in 2001, a human species unafraid to venture ever deeper into the cosmic sublime in the uncertain quest for our meaning and destiny?
— As suggested in 2001, will our explorations into nihilism and the vast cosmos produce an Ubermensch, a much more intellectually evolved species that explores in peace, protects the ecosystems of the planets it encounters, and journeys through the cosmos in the quest for beauty, sublimity, and the experience of the infinite?
— Or will we merely be a species capable of producing technological Ubermensches in space while still behaving like warrior apes far removed from a philosophical Ubermensch and truly advanced species?
If human existence is to mean we are more than momentary microbes and spasmodic smiles, then we must confront the specter of the monolith. Like a Pilobolus spore launch, we need a philosophical launch directly into nihilism and the sublime. Creating a cosmic narrative with universal meaning for the passengers on Spaceship Earth in this epic cosmos — that’s the single greatest challenge facing art and philosophy. An epic cosmos needs an epic narrative for the stardust that has become self-aware. Thirteen billion years of hydrogen atoms deserve no less. I welcome any reader comments.
This essay draws from ideas and passages in my new book, Specter of the Monolith(2017).
