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The artist Tom Sachs and his team of bricoleurs build a handmade space program and send two female astronauts to Mars.
Imagine a college art project, the purpose of which was to recreate a manned Mars mission. Now imagine this project being assigned to a highly gifted and wealthy student, and you get contemporary New York artist Tom Sach’s “A Space Program” – a filmed “art exhibit-cum-science lesson,” which runs a little over an hour – exactly twice the length it should have been. While not without its merits, Sach’s experiment leaves you feeling drained and claustrophobic, akin to being trapped in a space capsule.
It all beings promisingly, with evocative narration, supplemented by Shaman-like electronic soundscapes, quoting the visionary inventor Buckminster Fuller: “Science and religion are on a parallel course, to answer one question… [long pause] …are we alone?” We are then introduced to the team of pseudo-scientists (slash artists?) that Sachs assembled, Avengers-style, for his grandiose experiment, all set in a couple of massive stages. Impressively, Sachs managed to rally hundreds of folks, specializing in science, literature, film… and “imagination.”
Among them are: Lt. Samantha Ratanarat, “a model-maker, astronaut, ironworker” (in that order), who focuses on steel – the most prominently used material for space travel; Commander Mary Eannarino, “an astronaut and carpenter,” whose specialty is plywood, “the queen of all building materials”; Sgt. Pat McCarthy, “the shop foreman”, who uses… a broom (“No one is above manual labor… Sometimes even a boss might shovel shit in Louisiana.”); Lt. Nick Doyle, “a fifth-degree master bricoleur”… At the helm of the project is, of course, Col. Tom Sachs himself, known for such controversial work as a full-scale model of the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki.
And therein lies the entire point of this, well, I hesitate to call it a “film” – let’s say, “piece.” “Our space program is handmade, guided by the philosophy of bricolage,” the narration informs solemnly. Everything is replicated using the most basic of materials and tools. The “trip” is led by two female astronomers (in memory of Ann Lee, inventor of the circular saw, which allows them to plunge-cut the Martian surface (and, in one grisly shot, a human heart and brain)), and is broadcast to the theater audience on multiple “telescreens,” while it is led from stage to stage, as the events unfurl. The two women go to Mars “not to exploit the resources of a new planet, but to better understand our resources, here on Earth” – which, I guess, summarizes the whole goal of “A Space Program”… although, at a different point, Sach states that his mission is to find life on Mars and recoup their investment. So this part is a bit hazy.
The art exhibit itself is impressive in its scope and imagination. Sachs infuses all the technical jargon and self-seriousness with dashes of humor, such as a “turn off your cellphones, turn on your minds” sign at the start of the exhibit, an “Applause/Quiet” electronic board, an old-school globe on a string serving as a replica of Earth, and a detailed depiction of what it would be like to defecate in a space ship. The artist lands the ship on Mars using a prehistoric Atari landing emulator. The insemination of the Martian surface consists of poppy seeds and cream cheese from a bagel. Oh, and there’s a “funky boombox,” the first to grace the Martian surface.
There are some interesting factoids, such as the makings of a Martian suit, the length of time it takes to get to Mars without technology, and, of course, the aforementioned step-by-step reenactment of the entire mission – from boarding the space ship to the flight, from landing on Mars to exploring it. It demonstrates how close, claustrophobic proximity and isolation can get out of hand, shown through a quirky “Bitch Meter,” old IBM footage, and crayon graphics depicting the heart-brain “feedback system.” Whether or not they astronauts find life on Mars, I’ll let you discover – but let’s just say, funky music is involved.
Overall, “A Space Program” feels like an extended, artsy episode of “How It’s Made” or “Mythbusters,” if it were heavily dosed on opium. Some of the “do-it-yourself” science is dubious, leaving the viewer wondering what is plausible and what isn’t. The “piece”‘s amateur feel starts to become a detriment – it’s just hard to take crayon drawings of space ships seriously. There is no sense of peril or suspense. After an engaging start the narrative lurches into long stretches of “floating through fake space” boredom. None of the characters engage – we are passive observers, somewhat fascinated at the possibility of “what if,” but ultimately left cold. Perhaps the celluloid format distances the viewers from the experience of actual emotional involvement.
While Sach’s ambition and imagination are admirable and impressive, and a lot of passion and effort clearly went into this project, it ultimately leaves you confused regarding its purpose. It’s not really educational, doesn’t work as a documentary or a narrative piece… Kudos for keeping the quest for space exploration alive, I guess? Watching it, I wished I were there, wandering around the artist’s bricolage inventions, instead of blankly staring at it on the screen, hoping for Matt Damon to show up and plant some damn potatoes already.
Opens in Los Angeles at The Cinefamily on Thursday, April 7th
