Jakub (Adam Sandler) has been traveling through space for over 180 days towards a mysterious Chopra Cloud that has scientists fascinated because it may contain the secrets of the origin of our universe.  Alone on the station, he communicates to Earth through the Czech Connect, and while he can always contact Peter (Kunal Nayyar) from mission control, Jakub begins to worry as his wife, Lenka (Carey Mulligan), stops answering his calls.  Finally feeling alone in the stars, Jakub begins to break down until he is visited by Hanuš (Paul Dano) the last of a species of alien that has dedicated his life to studying humans. 

Johan Renck directs Spaceman, a 107-minute adaptation for Netflix written by Colby Day based on Jaroslav Kalfar’s novel Spaceman of Bohemia.  The film had its premiere at the Berlinale shortly ahead of its streaming release. Featuring Jakob Ihre’s cinematography that captures the cold isolation of space as well as the warm isolation of memory all set to Max Richter’s overflowing – albeit a little on the nose – score, Spaceman is a treat for the senses and it is always enjoyable to see Sandler breaking the mold and deliver a tender and nuanced performance.  

With a body of work that struggles to support that claim, especially in his more recent output with Netflix, Sandler is a very capable dramatic actor who is able to work in such a way that his immediate association as a goofball does not diminish his ability to excel in more serious roles. He delivers a very tortured performance here and possibly because he is so versed in comedy, he knows what choices to avoid in order to keep the film dramatic. Thematically, Jakub is not unlike many of the other characters that Sandler is known for portraying as he too is contently getting beaten down by new advances of the plot, but instead of displaying comic resiliency, Jakub shatters. Even looking at the actor’s quote-unquote serious roles, Spaceman does not have the charm like Punch-Drunk Love (2002), the mania of Uncut Gems (2019), or the energy of Hustle (2022). The film offers Sandler little opportunity to hide, forcing him to show an entirely new kind of vulnerability and it is incredibly exciting to witness him tap into this side of himself. 

Back on Earth, we see a different portrait of grief and loneliness in Mulligan’s tender portrayal of Lenka.  It is at once a role that on the page almost any of Mulligan’s colleagues could have played, but seeing her in the role on screen, it is clear that she was the only choice as she taps into a very specific portrayal of the tragedy of betrayal.  Walking the line of being both warm and cold, the audience looks on with a twinge of dread as we see her clearly portrayed discontent which Jakub is unable to pick up on.  To pull this off, Mulligan needs to carefully lean into Lenka’s doubts because if she pushes too hard too fast, audiences would lose their trust in Jakub for not having picked up on this sentiment before his departure. 

The last major player in this fable is Hanuš, a large, arachnid that has stowawayed on Jakub’s ship.  Dano does well voicing the alien creature, though his performance lacks the depth and variety to really make it memorable beyond the initial shock of the character design.  He conveys a very specific brand of compassion, the kind of compassion that one extends to others while withholding from themselves, which makes Hanuš an immediately sympathetic figure for audiences, but the performance never really grows from there.  Dano has pulled all there is to pull from that well, but to be fair to the actor, much like Mulligan’s Lenka, Hanuš does not have as large an arc to travel as Jakub.  Day wisely does not get too bogged down in the lore – the Gorompeds who came and eradicated Hanuš’ home planet – but we do need a little more than the few passing mentions to really make this film work.  There is clearly a metaphor being explored here with as importantly as the film presents itself, but it is too obtuse for the general audience to clearly grasp and feel its unifying ties across the three characters’ arcs.  Science fiction is a genre that allows filmmakers some of the most freedom, but it also requires some of the most precision, too, and Spaceman is a little too loose which muddies the cast’s understanding of its philosophy and therefore the audience’s understanding of it as well. On a more practical level, though, the soothing timbre of Dano’s voice works incredibly well in the film, almost coddling us, and the repeated phrases help to build a sense of structure, routine, and safety despite his design which is meant to revolt. 

As they say, space is the final frontier. Relatively speaking, for as long as humans have gazed up in wonder at the stars, filmmakers took to the heavens to better understand their place here on Earth.  The vast limitless, the separation from the species, and the unknown possibilities have made these deepest reaches of the universe a full and narratively prosperous mine first struck by Georges Méliès in A Trip to the Moon (1902) when he launched a rocket ship full of astronomers into space to explore the lunar surface all the way back at the dawn of cinema.  With such a long history, each new entry into the genre requires filmmakers to find new and creative ways to explore these inherently human themes in the most inhumane of environments.  

Spaceman establishes a strong base for a story that will examine first loneliness, but then the various shades of abandonment and responsibility as felt both by Jakub in space and those who were left behind back on Earth.  We reckon along with Jakub as he begins to see that his responsibility to the mission was not felt the same way by Lenka who feels abandoned by him as she carries their child.  Her transformation, unfortunately, is not as formed and supported as we would like since her story is mostly delivered in fragments of memory with a few brief check-ins at the maternity retreat.  The film further and unwittingly paints her in a poor light as she seeks a divorce from Jakub – who, for all intents and purposes is the hero of this story – right at the pivotal phase of his mission.  She has her family around her. She carries their child.  She looks to the sky and sees the Chopra Cloud where her husband is headed.  In the real world, it would not be right to hold these things against her feelings of isolation, but within the context of the film, her character is not supported enough on the page to make us believe her crisis of conscience.  Fortunately, the film does not end on the tragedy that it seemed to be careening towards, and while it is a little too tidy of a conclusion, the saccharine smile in those final moments plays more poignantly than a loss would because Lenka had been only a sketched out; her importance is known through Jakub’s pinning more than her own actions. 

There is a lot that Spaceman can be praised for as Renck scratches at some really interesting scenarios and leans heavily on some of the more iconic and beloved films of the genre; both ones which are set in the stars, but honestly, the more lunar-fascinated yet terrestrial set Melancholia (2011) is the film which is constantly called to mind.  The problem comes in its lack of brevity and the weakness of the characters, which could otherwise be forgiven in a breezier 90-minute or less cut of the film but here that feels slight, as if they were half-formed.  The thought and intention are clearly there on screen, but the more that Renck tries to translate his cerebral thoughts into visual language, he runs the risk of being seen as style over substance.  As presented, the visuals all help to flavor the luscious and well-defined tone of the film, but sometimes, as Jakub learns all too late in his journey, it is better if we use our words.