The Midnight Sky

Oh, right, now I remember, there's a reason I stopped watching movies and television, and George Clooney embodies it.

The Midnight Sky starts out promising enough, with an undisclosed worldwide catastrophe stranding a sufferer of an undisclosed illness at an arctic research station, oh and also we've discovered a possibly habitable extra-bonus moon in Jupiter's orbit. Sadly (infuriatingly) whatever promise the plot held for hard SF in the first half gets snowed under a mindless tirade of pulp clichés by the second.

From the terminally ill sexagenarian not getting so much as a sniffle strolling around in arctic storms with his face uncovered for days on end and taking a swim in freezing water to wolves who don't harry their prey to staring at the sun while spacewalking without a polarized faceplate to swarms of (radar-invisible) asteroids mere hands' breadth apart to the human-perfect alien planet with a fully functional ecosystem to chattering interplanetarily with no lightspeed delay to pausing to palpate an injury during EVA instead of rushing for the airlock to the cutting-edge spaceship apparently incapable of picking up radiating news broadcasts you could catch with a ham radio, to the primitivist Adam&Eve finale ignoring even the most generous stretch of the 50/500 rule or the once-quaint "Little Apocrypha" plot twist that's been beaten to death and to undeath and back to death again ever since Fight Club and The Sixth Sense twenty fucking years ago to all the overemotional family scenes shoehorned into an otherwise perfectly workable cold-blooded spin on the survival of the species, cliché after cliché and plot hole after plot hole and concession after concession to no necessity at all, it is all not just stupid but gratuitously stupid. Every nugget of stupidity could've effortlessly been replaced with something better without harming the story or scenery's impact in the slightest. This is sadism, it is harm for the sake of causing harm, subhuman regression for its own sake.

Heinlein was ashamed for his profession to vomit out such drivel even back in 1950. For 2020, it is utterly inexcusable. I don't care if the retardation in this case came from the retarded bitch who wrote the novel or the retarded cunts who adapted it to a movie or from that retarded prick Clooney and his retard-pleasing directing, because every fucking retard involved in spewing out this anti-intellectual piece of mass-market diarrhea deserves to be put to the sword for crimes against sentience.

Nothing created means anything while the verminous majority is permitted to continue poisoning everything, absolutely everything, with its sickening, degenerate demands for devolution.

 

Filth.