That being said, I finally got around to seeing Interstellar the other night, and oh my Lord, what a big steaming pile that movie is. I didn't hate it as much as I hated Birdman, though I hated it more than I hated The Tree of Life, which means the hatred was fairly significant.
I was so thankful when the movie was over because once it was over I felt that I was waking up from a nightmare. Not a nightmare with bogey men and rabid dogs; but one of those nightmares that involves you in a million strands of amorphous complexity but after which, upon waking, you immediately release everything from its hold on you in a great breath of gratitude for the dewfall grace of waking up. Sweet, sweet waking up. For solid ground under your feet and simple tasks to perform. For truth and reality and sobriety and homely wonder. For the Eucharistic Lord loving you in the simple here and now, in the very depths of your own dumb self. His loving you changing you.
The love that moves the sun and the other stars is not an immanent evolutionary consciousness - oh thank God!
Love did not become cosmic consciousness, but became a man. And to reach me, he didn't become the whole human species, taking up time-space relativity; but he took up a cross made of wood and laid himself upon it. Love is not just love. Oh thank God!
Christopher Nolan's Interstellar was structurally interesting at the beginning. But he's too tendentious. He's too portentous.
"For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear." --2 Timothy 4:3
Actually, I really do like criticizing movies.