Proxima
PANTHEDuring his eponymous speech at Rice University in 1962, John F. Kennedy famously remarked that “we choose to go to the Moon […] and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” While his words were supposed to be understood as a literally articulated desire to put a man on the Moon before the Soviets, they also carried a deeper, more general meaning applicable to any discipline and any endeavour. Breaking barriers isn’t easy, which is exactly why they need to be broken.
Alice Winocour’s sophomore directorial effort, Proxima, engages the spirit and substance of Kennedy’s famous aspiration both literally and on a much more subtle, almost symbolic level. To achieve that, it employs a deceptively simple narrative in which a high-achieving engineer working for ESA (European Space Agency), Sarah (Eva Green), is given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to participate in a year-long mission aboard the International Space Station in the Earth’s orbit. Her childhood dream of being an astronaut is about to become a reality. However, in order to fulfil her dream of infiltrating this male-dominated field of space exploration and becoming a role model for young girls the world over, Sarah would have to sacrifice her relationship with her young daughter, Stella (an outstanding performance by Zélie Boulant-Lemesle).
This is where the central conflict of the film is sketched out: at the interface between these two thematic planes. It comments on the female strife to assert themselves in a world where they are, sadly, seen as inferior intruders or affirmative action opportunists while grappling with the paradoxical expectations and pressures placed upon women by the contemporary society. What is most worth noting here is the way Winocour goes about handling these complex themes. In fact, she uses the perceived sparsity of the narrative to her advantage in this regard. While the viewer would typically expect a plot-laden narrative focusing on Sarah’s quest to toughen up and join the ranks of female astronauts, the filmmaker subverts these expectations completely by openly disregarding the seemingly central premise of the story. Proxima isn’t concerned with seeing Sarah through her quest nearly as much as it is interested in giving her – and by extension the viewer – room to grapple with this tragic set of circumstances wherein she would have to abandon her child to feel worthy of her respect and admiration.
Winocour succeeds in this effort by filling the seemingly vast expanses of narrative dearth with thought-provoking character nuances, little scenarios and delicate character touches that, over time, add up to a sizable body of evidence making a case for her storytelling prowess. As she puts Sarah through her paces and has her stand up to openly hostile and patronizing colleagues, she also smuggles very distinctive visual details meant to convey the binary nature of her inner struggle. One great example involves a prolonged scene where Sarah is visited by her daughter, who can be present while the prospective astronauts are briefed by more experienced colleagues on specifics of their mission. The meeting runs long and Stella, who initially was seen colouring and playing in the background, finds herself under the table, teasing her mother. Meanwhile, Sarah tries to divide her attention between what is being said during the briefing and entertaining Stella who is bored out of her mind. It is, of course, impossible and Sarah eventually loses track of Stella’s whereabouts, as she subconsciously chooses to focus on her work.
In fact, this little scene is a near perfect encapsulation of the film’s central thesis and a brilliant illustration to the impossibility of Sarah’s predicament, which organically demands that a sacrifice is made. What is more, the entire film is simply teeming with many more such examples evocatively bringing attention to such things as casual workplace misogyny, Sarah’s deteriorating relationship with her daughter, or even the way she is perceived by other women. Together, these highly expressive bits of character detail and nuanced, withdrawn storytelling build a multidimensional edifice to hold the bulk of the film’s thematic complexity, which is then transplanted directly into the viewer’s cerebral cortex, where it will stay for the foreseeable future.
Suffice it to say, Proxima isn’t a film to be watched, enjoyed and forgotten. It is a film to be experienced and mulled over; designed to linger in the viewer’s mind and to – hopefully – adjust their worldview. This ‘science-fiction adjacent’ drama is much more than just an emancipated roar or an accomplished parable about breaking glass ceilings. It is a well-reasoned commentary on womanhood that succeeds despite its somewhat manufactured resolution but, most of all, puts Alice Winocour on the map as one of the up-and-coming female voices in contemporary cinema together with Debra Granik, Céline Sciamma, Greta Gerwig and many more. And – let’s not forget – Proxima is a great vehicle for Eva Green to spread her wings and showcase the full spectrum of her acting talent.
