Chapter 776: This View Is Too Beautiful

December 26, 2010, was an ordinary day. The North American Christmas holiday had just ended, returning the streets of Los Angeles to their usual peace. Yet countless people had gathered outside an IMAX cinema in Nokia Square, the line stretching out of the theater and across the plaza.

"Damn it! All the tickets before the New Year are sold out!"

Similar complaints echoed continuously across Nokia Square, blending into a collective groan.

"Why open with advance screenings?"

"What is Duke doing? I don't get his reasoning at all..."

"Rumor has it the film's post-production was rushed. Warner Brothers hasn't finished preparing all the prints, so they could only start with advance screenings."

Listening to the chatter, Tony Cross couldn't help but feel relieved. Thankfully, he had the foresight to camp out at his computer for half the day as soon as he heard Gravity tickets were going on sale. It was the only way he managed to snatch an advance ticket from the frantic rush.

He had arrived a little late, however, and could only slowly shuffle forward in the Nokia Square line.

Not far from Nokia Square, another advance screening was taking place. Unlike the public showings, this was a special screening Warner Brothers had arranged exclusively for Academy voters and the press. Although Duke had flown to San Francisco to deal with a Lucasfilm issue and couldn't attend, the rest of the film's main cast and crew were present. Furthermore, Warner Brothers and Penny Kalis had managed to invite several Academy heavyweights.

One of them was Frank Pierson. Even though he had stepped down as the rotating chairman of the Academy, no one could ignore his massive influence, especially regarding certain key awards.

There was also Katherine Kennedy. As a veteran figure within the Producers Alliance, she wielded considerable influence and authority across multiple areas.

Then there was the press. Traditional media outlets with massive industry clout—such as Vanity Fair, Hollywood Reporter, and Entertainment Weekly—had sent several of their editors-in-chief and deputy editors.

Sarah, the deputy editor of the Los Angeles Times entertainment section, was among them. Truth be told, she was greatly anticipating this film. She was incredibly eager to see exactly what kind of Oscar campaign film or role Duke Rosenberg had custom-made for his girlfriend.

"At an altitude of 600 kilometers above Earth, temperatures fluctuate between +258 and -148 degrees Fahrenheit. There is nothing to carry sound. There is no atmospheric pressure. There is no oxygen. Life cannot survive in space."

The film opened without any flashy titles. Accompanied only by the score, a few simple white letters against a black background spelled out GRAVITY. There were no special effects and no elaborate production tricks.

Yet Sarah felt this simple approach was absolutely the best.

The long take at the start of the movie was stunningly beautiful. The azure Earth practically filled the entire field of vision. Space was completely silent, broken only by mission commands coming through the comms and astronaut Kowalski's rambling chatter. Dr. Stone was rebooting the communication cards. Shariff was replacing battery modules. Everything was proceeding smoothly. The spacecraft floated steadily, allowing the astronauts to see the vast expanse of the universe behind them and the comforting home of Earth in front of them. It was a sight few ever had the chance to witness.

Through his 3D Glasses, Tony Cross went wide-eyed. He stared unblinkingly at the massive IMAX screen in front of him.

"You have to admit one thing: this view is too beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous."

Someone in the audience suddenly repeated George Clooney's line. It was an incredibly accurate description.

Unfortunately, this peaceful atmosphere did not last long. The astronauts were forced into an emergency evacuation from the Hubble Telescope. Debris from a satellite struck by a missile had triggered a chain reaction, hurtling at high speeds directly toward their location. The shrapnel threatened the majority of satellites in orbit, risking a complete communications blackout with Earth at any moment. Soon enough, the astronauts could see the satellite debris with their naked eyes.

The camera rapidly switched angles and the music grew frantic, instantly spiking the audience's emotions.

Tony Cross felt that the 3D effects were astonishingly real in that instant—so real it looked like those fragments were flying straight at him, ready to tear through his body and head. His adrenaline spiked, and he couldn't stop himself from physically dodging out of the way...

Fortunately, his self-control was strong enough that he quickly regained his composure. Glancing around, he couldn't help but chuckle.

The young man on his right was excitedly dodging the oncoming debris, the girl on his left was getting so motion-sick from the 3D effects that she looked ready to throw up, and the girl behind him was already in tears.

"I sat in the vast, dim theater, watching the space station get shattered like foam by the satellite debris. But in space, you can't hear a thing. As the silent music played, I believed that what I saw and heard was a magnificent ode to humanity in space—real, sorrowful, tranquil, and burning with passion."

When Tony Cross finally snapped out of the silent sounds of space, he realized his tightly clenched palms were covered in sweat.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. The 3D effects were truly outstanding. She hadn't seen a film with such incredible 3D since Avatar, and she had heard beforehand that the opening eighteen minutes would deliver an unprecedented sensation.

It certainly did. The resplendent backdrop of space and the breathtakingly beautiful Earth were proof of that.

She genuinely admired Duke Rosenberg's special effects technology. It was amazing that he could make a movie look so unbelievably real and magnificent.

The two waves of space debris explosions pulled the audience deeply into the story. It left their palms sweating and their hearts racing, involuntarily driving them to flee the boundless dark of space alongside the lonely female lead, terrified for her fate.

She had to admit, very few disaster movies made her feel this helpless. Whether it was Jurassic Park, Anaconda, or Jaws, they all took place on Earth. As terrifying as they were, you knew your feet were planted on solid ground, and you always had a group of people standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

In space, however, everything was different. You couldn't just throw away your gear and sprint like you could on Earth. You couldn't survive outside the protection of a spacesuit, and you couldn't even guarantee your companions would be with you every second of the way. On Earth, you could always carve out a cramped space to gain a sense of security. But in space, the word "cramped" didn't exist. There was only infinite vastness and boundless despair. There was no up or down, no north, south, east, or west. In every direction lay the endlessly stretching void, and only that silently floating planet could offer a source of comfort.

The movie displayed all of this to absolute perfection!

Watching the female lead struggle to survive, Frank Pierson narrowed his eyes slightly. He had absolutely zero interest in 3D technology and similar gimmicks; his focus lay entirely on the film itself.

The movie was far more oppressive than the vast majority of horror thrillers. Even calling it a horror movie couldn't adequately describe that tense, despairing atmosphere.

Duke Rosenberg had truly managed to tap into humanity's morbid curiosity, forcing the audience to immerse themselves in this hyper-realistic space experience and feel the insignificance and helplessness of mankind.

He had pushed a seemingly ordinary space mission to the absolute limits of realism. It was precisely because this realism was taken to the extreme that it created such a wild, awe-inspiring viewing experience. It truly integrated the audience into the film, making them share and endure this terrifyingly real ordeal alongside the actors.

This intense sense of immersion made everyone feel as though they were right there, swaying desperately in the vast and lonely cosmos.

Unlike ordinary moviegoers, Frank Pierson believed the film wasn't merely emphasizing the traditional elements of sight and sound, but rather placing the audience right in the middle of it all, making them intimately experience and feel the entire process!

Moreover, the opening seventeen-minute long take established the texture and style for the entire film. The camera shifted seamlessly between the grand backdrop of Earth, the space station, Scarlett Johansson, and George Clooney. Such fluid camera transitions were almost unimaginable in Duke Rosenberg's previous films.

In contrast, this movie used a series of incredibly difficult long takes to connect every stage of the story, leaving the audience with almost no chance to rest or catch their breath.

Frank Pierson exhaled softly. Duke Rosenberg had finally improved; he had finally moved closer to the Academy's mainstream. Wasn't this something the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences should celebrate in a big way?

Although it still featured the 3D technology he didn't care much for, in the face of all these achievements, that could be completely ignored.

Perhaps it was time to give him more recognition or rewards?

Frank Pierson wasn't sure why this thought had suddenly leaped into his mind. However, he wouldn't make a decision lightly; he planned to discuss it thoroughly with a few old friends first.

Gravity had undoubtedly achieved a balance between technology and story. Through this space escape scenario that offered the audience absolutely no chance to catch their breath, it delivered a continuous string of thrilling visual impacts. Of course, the film's perfection was comprehensive: the suffocating score meshed almost flawlessly with the urgency of the scenes, and the tight pacing ensured there wasn't a single dull moment.

Then there was the female lead. Scarlett Johansson's performance was absolutely impossible to ignore.

Frank Pierson acknowledged this point. Scarlett Johansson had delivered a phenomenal, magnificent performance. She had accurately portrayed the despair and terror of being trapped in such a claustrophobic environment, fully earning an Oscar nomination.

This was absolutely one of the best female roles on the big screen this year!

"Scarlett Johansson's performance is practically perfect. She flawlessly shows people the helplessness of being completely alone in space."

All around Sarah, many journalists from professional entertainment media outlets were exchanging their thoughts, and this sentiment was shared by the vast majority of them.

To a certain extent, the film had almost no plot. Scarlett Johansson completely carried the entire movie by herself. Because she spent most of the runtime without any co-stars to act opposite or converse with, the emotional weight of the film relied entirely on the actor's own skill and dedication.

No wonder James Cameron, who had seen it earliest, had given it such high praise!