The Martian is a 2015 science fiction film directed by Ridley Scott, starring Matt Damon.
More specifically, it’s because listening to someone speak while chewing is ONE OF THE MOST ANNOYING THINGS ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.
Matt Damon talks a lot in this film. That’s because for about 90 per cent of it, he’s alone, so the only ‘dialogue’ is him recording a video diary (speaking directly at a GoPro camera). This would be fine, except that he performs most of this dialogue while eating.
This is baffling for a number of reasons. First, let’s go with something that is important for all films, regardless of genre or content: internal logic. Early on, we the audience are practically beaten over the head with the message that this guy’s number one concern, being stranded on Mars with no contact with NASA back on Earth, is that he will eventually run out of food and starve to death. It seemed to me to be a puzzling choice to then show him CONSTANTLY EATING IN ALMOST EVERY SCENE. It kind of diffuses the whole ‘he may starve to death’ vibe they were going for.
The second reason, however, is far more obvious: it is unbelievably fucking irritating to listen to someone talk with their mouth full. You only have to try to carry on a conversation with someone chewing gum for about fifteen seconds before the urge to punch them in the face becomes almost irresistible. How on Earth (pun intended I guess) these scenes made it past the filming, editing, and post-production phases without someone mentioning that it is some of the most annoying acting ever committed to film is completely beyond me.
I usually watch a film two to three times before I post a review of it. If it has a commentary track, I’ll even watch it a fourth time. Mercifully, The Martian is commentary-free. So I only watched it three times in quick succession. Think you’re a patient person? Hold that thought. Go stick on The Martian and watch Matt Damon say the word ‘hexadecimals’ three times while breathily chewing a mouthful of hot potato.
I’ve also learned from commentary tracks that, generally speaking, actors hate scenes where they have to eat. So do editors and directors, mainly because it’s a pain in the ass to match scenes and ensure continuity – you have to constantly remain aware of how much food is on a plate or on a fork or in someone’s mouth, and actors often have to keep these disgusting ‘spit buckets’ just off camera to avoid having to swallow thirty five pounds of food if the scene where they are eating is filmed in dozens of takes over several days. So the question again comes to mind – how did this not come up during production? At some point you’d think Matt might have spoken up: ‘Hey, Ridley, enough with the potatoes already.’
He does remark towards the end that he’s sick of potatoes. If it was some weird device to try to remind the audience that this is basically his only food supply, it actually has the opposite effect. In the book, there’s a far more detailed explanation of his rationing (which only includes potatoes, it’s not limited to them) and you do actually get the sense that his food supply is indeed a) limited and b) steadily dwindling. There is a source of tension there. In the film, you never really get the sense that he’s in any kind of real peril. Yeah, there’s a Cast Away-type moment where the film skips seven months ahead in time and we see that he’s lost a lot of weight (courtesy of some damn fine CGI work) but this is well after it’s clearly established that NASA has a solid rescue plan underway, so all but the least jaded of film goers will know by this point that stranded astronaut Mark Watney is no longer in any danger of dying on Mars.
The whole film lacks any real dramatic tension, which a film like this sorely needs. Watney is portrayed as this kind of genius botanist/engineer, so as soon as a seemingly insurmountable problem presents itself, he solves it. No time is taken to establish any kind of peril. The palpable tension of a lone man trapped on an inhospitable world should have practically written itself, but it’s never explored beyond a trite kind of problem-plus-science-equals-solution equation that never once takes the time to establish any kind of credible tension. I never got any kind of visceral feeling that this guy was stuck on a desolate planet, hundreds of thousands of kilometres from any hope, or that his life was in any kind of immediate danger. It felt more like he was stranded at a beach resort with a dead cell phone. The book, at the very least, attempts to explain how difficult and complex it is to communicate between planets (hint: it’s so close to being impossible it’s a wonder we can do it at all, let alone in trying conditions like the ones portrayed here) but in this film, again, the minute it’s established as a problem, Watney and some NASA whiz-kid in Pasadena whip up a solution before the tension ever has a chance to take root.
Okay, my judgement is harsh, the film does strike some solid notes. The production design is, as is typical for a Ridley Scott film, absolutely sublime. I was completely immersed in the visuals, and the technical details (the Mars Rover, the Hab, etc) are all spot-on. All the stuff back on Earth, the political and media implications of NASA’s colossal screw up in leaving an astronaut stranded on Mars, are all really very interesting and the performances (particularly Jeff Daniels, Sean Bean and Chiwetel Ejiofor) are all solid. I found myself engaging far more with these characters then I ever did with the increasingly irritating Mark Watney character.
Basically the film, which stretches way past two hours’ length, is so eager to race to a snappy conclusion that everything feels rushed. It could have been an intelligent, psychological exploration of loneliness and isolation, but instead it settles for corny ‘triumph of the human spirit’ nonsense that is as forgettable as it is underwhelming. Ridley Scott used to explore complex themes and thought-provoking ideas with his science fiction. Take the quiet, contemplative moment in Bladerunner where Rick Deckard softly pads at the keys of a piano in the musty darkness of his apartment and compare it to the scene in The Martian where Matt Damon prances around in a bathrobe complaining that all he has to listen to is 80’s disco music. The mighty have indeed taken a tumble here.
Someone needs to remind Ridley Scott he’s better than this, and someone needs to slap Matt Damon upside the head and tell him to freakin' swallow before he opens his mouth!
