There is a reason people keep measuring space-travel movies against Interstellar. It is not just because it is big, or emotional, or scientifically ambitious, or because Hans Zimmer can make a docking maneuver feel like the fate of your soul. It is because the movie understands something a lot of space cinema only half-grasps: space is not impressive on its own. Distance is not enough. Hardware is not enough. Silence is not enough. What matters is what space does to human feeling. What happens when time stops behaving like love needs it to. What happens when duty starts eating years. What happens when survival becomes math, and math starts humiliating the heart.
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