Proxima
IFCWithin the past decade, director and screenwriter Alice Winocour has specialized in crafting thorny and complex character studies, from her award-winning screenplay for Mustang to her previous directorial efforts, Augustine and Maryland. Her latest, Proxima, is both a continuation and departure from that template and, in some ways, runs parallel to the idea of a woman training to explore new worlds.
The woman in question is French astronaut Sarah Loreau (Eva Green), who is tapped to join an international excursion to Mars. From the beginning, the film establishes a sharp divide between her work life and responsibilities at home, not only in the color palettes of those spaces but the language she speaks. When conversing with her daughter Stella (Zelie Boulant) and her estranged husband (Lars Eidinger), she speaks French, but at work she speaks accented English with her co-workers and superiors. There is also the impression that this is someone who is straddling two conflicting ways of living and constantly feeling the pull from both sides.
Nevertheless, the main conflict of Proxima remains elusive for most of its running time, and the experience is like watching little Stella wobbling as she learns to ride a bike. What is the obstacle Sarah will ultimately have to overcome before departing into outer space? Is it getting stonewalled by sexism? The rigors of her physical training? Is it the separation from her daughter? Her deteriorating health? The dangerously high standards she is placing on herself? The film flutters from one hurdle to the other, but it’s surprising which ones are cleared. In that regard, Proxima deserves credit for being unpredictable, but it’s also disappointing. Only within the last act does it reveals it’s about the interior struggles of being a mother and culminates with a health-related sacrifice that is cringeworthy in 2020.
In spite of these flaws, the performances are fine. Eva Green brings a subtle but conflicted approach to the role, much like her lesser-seen work in films like Womb and Euphoria. Likewise, Matt Dillon brings dimensions to his character that are reminiscent of his abusive cop in Crash and his recent turn as a misogynistic serial killer in The House That Jack Built. As one of Sarah’s fellow crewmates, Mike, he effortless nails his underhanded contempt for a woman being on his team. However, one of Proxima’s strengths is shaking up who are Sarah’s friends and advocates while on the job, but her struggle continues without making the causes clear. When she begins to show cracks in her façade, it seems unearned.
In the end, the film may be compelling for some audiences, just not in the way it was marketed. At one point, Sarah is told, “There is no such thing as the perfect astronaut, just like there’s no such thing as a perfect mother.” That line crystallises what the story is about, but it takes a while for that message to take center stage. By the time mother and daughter have their climactic scene, there is a separation from its urgency, just like the wall-to-wall windows between them. Sarah’s struggles are palpable but remote to her daughter and just about everyone else, behind glass and impossible to touch.