I.S.S. (2024)

Score: 2 / 5

Space thrillers are always a fun time. By definition an exercise in claustrophobia, the subgenre works best when leaning into the restrictions of maintaining life in an impossible location. Whether it's in body suits and top-tier actors floating off into space, a derelict ship riddled with parasitic predatory aliens, or ghostly memories warping the minds of isolated astronauts orbiting a mysterious planet, the movies let paranoia mobilize their plot, inform and torment their characters, and infect and entertain their audience. I.S.S., the new thriller from director Gabriela Cowperthwaite (Blackfish, Megan Leavey, Our Friend) is well aware of its fearsome potential and utilizes its brief runtime to effectively chill and thrill us.

While there's a lot to be said for a B movie that knows exactly what it is and confidently presents itself, there's also a lot to be said for one that is also smart about what it offers. Unfortunately, that's where I.S.S. fails. Its brilliant premise -- as anyone who has seen the trailer knows -- takes us and a new astronaut to the titular International Space Station, home to a crew of three Russian and three American scientists. The six characters watch in horror when what appear to be nuclear explosions litter the surface of Earth shortly before each team receives private orders from their respective countries to take control of the station by any means necessary. Will their scientific and humanitarian camaraderie win the day, or will they disintegrate with suspicion and violence?

A brilliant premise only goes so far, though, and this screenplay by Nick Shafir squanders its opportunities at nearly every turn. A laborious opening act drops so many foreboding breadcrumbs it feels like a beginner's lecture on how suspense works in narrative; moment after moment drips with Portentous Significance, often with accompanying camera zooms and musical stings. We know the mice (there to be studied) are going to have a hard adjustment and their behavior will likely mimic that of the humans; we know the ominous warning about trusting the hum of the life support system will come true as if it's Chekhov's gun; we know the astronauts' supposedly spiritually revelatory view of Earth from their observation "cupola" will take on new horror when Earth is alight with radioactive fire. We don't need a screenplay to label and index the excessive amounts of breadcrumbs, pick them up for us, and then shove them down our throats. It's okay to trust your audience.

Even with the inherent tensions in this story, the screenplay further insults us by adding unnecessary and somewhat unbelievable conflict to the characters. Their early moment of viewing Earth without borders and coming to a transcendent mentality is swiftly undermined when, at a celebratory welcome dinner for the new astronaut, they aggressively split along nationalistic lines, defiantly allowing their linguistic differences and dubious microaggressions to trump what should be their unified, scientific, humanitarian purpose in being there. This also takes away their realism as characters, as it would have been much more interesting to see six apolitical people agonizingly decide whether or not to trust each other and obey their countries. Instead, except for the pair of star-crossed lovers, they are immediately painted on opposing teams vying for control, which would be more appropriate for an action movie than a thriller.

There are also too many weird story problems that didn't make sense to me; while it was only a single viewing for me, and usually these things don't bother me, the number of plot holes and conveniences shattered my suspension of disbelief. The transmissions from Russia and the US are supposed to be secret, but they chime aloud at the same time in the same room and nobody questions that, indeed sharing that they didn't actually receive any missives at all. When one character, working maintenance outside the station, becomes untethered and drifts away, we find out (SPOILER ALERT) much later that he was able to grab on to a panel and stay safe, which is absurd and deeply annoying after what Sandy B. had to deal with in Gravity. It's also bizarre to me that, whoever the aggressor was on Earth (we're never told), the initiating country in the conflict didn't give their team on ISS any advance warning, especially considering the potentially life-saving radiation-healing science aboard.

Despite my nagging, it's not all a bad time at the cinema (though my recommendation is to wait for rental or streaming, if you watch it at all). The film features some cool moments of space spectacle, such as when a character opens a liquor bottle without thinking, and they subsequently slurp the floating liquid spheres like anti-gravity shots. Semi-immersive cinematography by Nick Remy Matthews -- never as graceful as Emmanuel Lubezki's in Gravity or Seamus McGarvey's in Life -- bobs and twirls around the station effectively, making us feel adrift like the astronauts (though their suspension via wires is obvious more than once). There were some weird glitchy moments in my screening that seemed like digital buffering, but that could have just been a technical problem and not reflective of the film itself. But the film's uniquely terrible editing in all its frenetic confusion makes for a messy experience of even the best visual moments.

A likable cast of solid performers make the film watchable, but even they can't save it from itself. Ariana DeBose, fresh off her Oscar win, carries the film mostly through physical prowess and a certain queer charm about her. Her character is so thinly written and basic that she has almost nothing to work with, a near-complete waste of her talents. Chris Messina does his best as the American leader, and John Gallagher Jr. actually scared me for maybe the first time in his career as the (SPOILER ALERT) unbalanced and desperate quasi-villain. Unfortunately, his reveal as such is predictable and unsatisfying -- again, thanks to the screenplay's tendency to repeat anything important ad nauseam -- but he chews scenery with magnetic aplomb. Masha Mashkova, Costa Ronin, and especially Pilou Asbaek are solid as the Russian crew, though other than Asbaek their characters are also flat and uninspired.

Elementary writing and frenzied editing render I.S.S. mostly a breezy mess of a flick, enjoyable enough if you're not paying attention. Clunky fight scenes and dubious drama sap the film of what could easily be streamlined, adrenaline-pumping efficacy. Though far too numerous and awkwardly spliced in, the image of a burning Earth looming in the background is enough to make up for the film's budget; I'd have preferred fewer omniscient shots of the station superimposed over the fiery planet and more shots of the spectacle from within the station, to keep us grounded and immersed. That would also strengthen the focus on character drama, shifting loyalties, and interpersonal tension. Instead, the filmmakers try to balance those elements with practical matters, faulty technology, and lackluster action, watering down the potential on all fronts and losing focus on what should matter most. Kind of like the scientists-turned-would-be-patriots.