Given that it borrows prodigiously from Rosemary's Baby and
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978), both superior thrillers, logic would dictate that we find the plot of The Astronaut's Wife inherently
compelling, yet the film feels uninspired, and lacks the unity of concept
that made us believe in witchcraft and pod people, respectively. Underimagined
and overdesigned, Rand Ravich's debut behind the camera is the product
of not enough writing and too much directing.
NASA astronaut Spencer Armacost's (Johnny Depp) latest mission hit a snag: a freak explosion disrupted contact with ground control for two full minutes, and though Spencer and his wingman have returned to Earth in one piece, neither can quite explain, nor do they care to try, what happend "up there." FILM FREAK CENTRAL's beloved Charlize Theron inherits the mantle of Mia Farrow as Jillian, Spencer's adoring, schoolteacher wife; a succession of bizarre deaths and the aggressive sexual appetite of her husband lead Jillian to believe that more than routine technical failure happened to Spencer. When she's approached by a twitchy, clammy scientist (Joe Morton) claiming evidence of her hubby's possesion by aliens...well, there goes her last shred of happiness.
The Astronaut's Wife wants to evoke Rosemary's Baby at every turn, as demonstrated by its subdued pacing, Theron's pixie haircut, the presence of Nick Cassavetes (son of John, a.k.a. Rosemary's husband), fantasy sequences that just might not be hallucinations at all, and, of course, Jillian's impending motherhood. Yet the film has a 'we're making this up as we go along' vibe, its piecemeal homage to Polanski's 1968 classic nothing more than ironic gloss incapable of driving the story from point 'A' to point 'B'. Ravich is more interested in establishing airy portentousness (may The Astronaut's Wife be the last gasp of paranoia chic) than structuring a narrative: at the climax, we learn that Spencer is telekinetic--revealing a villain's superpower so late in the picture is a hallmark of children's literature, and by that I mean, literature written by children.
Ravich's technobabble is especially crude, putting The Astronaut's Wife in the same league of scientific intelligence as the analogous Species II. Granted, the former has a secret weapon in Charlize Theron, who elevates the material far past watchable. She negotiates Jan Roelfs' stark, gloomy sets (the Armacosts' Manhattan apartment could pass for the city morgue) with poise and unforced vulnerability. Ravich's screenplay is too off-the-cuff to generate any appreciable suspense, but at several junctures, I caught myself tensing up, fearing for Jillian's safety: as the victim of improbable circumstance, Theron donates a heart to a movie without a brain.
The Astronaut's Wife is also made more tolerable by New Line's top-drawer DVD presentation. Letterboxed at 1.78:1 (misidentified as 2.35:1 on the packaging) and enhanced for 16x9 televisions, the image is exceptionally detailed--one couldn't demand more depth from Allen "E.T." Daviau's purposely pale and low-key cinematography. Saturation is bold, but because the majority of sequences are either awash in orange or blue, rating the colours becomes superfluous. There is notable grain in bright exterior shots, and I couldn't be happier.
The DD 5.1 mix is a little too unassuming--the soundtrack's disquieting stillness is at once thematically effective and irritating. Bass is at full throttle during flashbacks, while the surrounds remain active where George S. Clinton's score is concerned. Just don't expect many whiz-bang, demo-worthy moments, despite the sci-fi nature of the film. Extras include widescreen, 5.1 trailers for The Astronaut's Wife, Trial and Error (relevant to Theron), and A Nightmare on Elm Street (relevant to Depp), as well as cast and crew bios. DVD-ROM users can access Ravich's full-length screenplay, scan the contents of the official The Astronaut's Wife website, and employ a Lord of the Rings-themed browser. The hype machine begins early for Peter Jackson's highly anticipated, ultra-expensive Tolkien trilogy.-Bill Chambers
© Film Freak Central; filmfreakcentral.net. This review may not be reprinted, in whole or in part, without the express consent of its author.