Stowaway: Clever riff on a classic sci-fi dilemma

Stowaway (2021) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated TV-MA, for dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.21.21

Math is unyielding.

 

No matter how desperate the circumstances, no matter how dire the situation, math won’t suddenly offer a more promising result.

 

While Michael (Shamier Anderson, far left) watches nervously, Commander Barnett
(Toni Colette, far right) clarifies their mission's implacable resource limitations to
Zoe (Anna Kendrick) and David (Daniel Dae Kim).

Writer/director Joe Penna’s absorbing Stowaway — a Netflix original — is Tom Godwin’s “Cold Equations” writ large (and a nod to that 1954 sci-fi classic would have been nice). Penna and co-scripter Ryan Morrison have “opened up” Godwin’s short story quite effectively, expanding the character roster, modifying the setting and circumstances.

 

But the core imperative remains the same: You simply can’t argue with math.

 

The story, set in a future when Mars has been colonized, begins as a Kingfisher rocket blasts off from Earth, under the command of Marina Barnett (Toni Colette). She’s joined by medical researcher Zoe Levenson (Anna Kendrick) and biologist/botanist David Kim (Daniel Dae Kim), accomplished academics chosen from thousands of applicants who submitted proposals for Mars-based research.

 

They dock with the Hyperion MTS-42, a modular space station. The spent rocket is transformed into a spinning counterweight at the end of a 500-meter-long tether; this supplies artificial gravity for the months-long journey to Mars. (Very cool concept, I might add.)

 

Shortly after this lengthy trip begins, during routine safety checks, Marina discovers an unconscious man in an overhead compartment that contains the Carbon Dioxide Removal Assembly (CDRA). When the body drops to the floor, his weight breaks Marina’s forearm; his safety harness, wrapped around a pipe attached to the CDRA, also inflicts damage.

 

Once he regains consciousness, the newcomer proves to be Michael Adams (Shamier Anderson), a ground crew engineer who blacked out after injuring himself during final pre-flight checks.

 

(I know, I know. The notion that there wouldn’t be some sort of personnel role call prior to take-off, is rather difficult to swallow. We gotta just go with it.)

 

(Technically, Michael also isn’t a stowaway, since he’s present accidentally, rather than intentionally. But that really is picking nits.)

 

Michael initially is horrified by the implications of his plight; the MTS-42 already has traveled past the point of no return, which means he’s looking at a two-year leave from Earth. This is agonizing — and Anderson plays this quite well — because he’s the sole support for his younger sister Ava, back on Earth. Happily, Hyperion officials — reached by radio — rise to the occasion, and promise to house and support her.

 

At which point, Michael calmly accepts the situation, and promises to “carry his weight” to whatever degree the others can use him.

 

Ah, but there’s the rub.

Always Be My Maybe: No doubts here!

Always Be My Maybe (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, drug use and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.24.20

Much the way the Hallmark Channel has become (in)famous for its insufferably sweet Christmas movies, Netflix has been unleashing a steady supply of original romantic comedies.

When Marcus (Emerson Min) and Sasha (Miya Cech) treat themselves to a night on the
town, of course they have to participate in a cute photo booth session.

Many fall into the so-so category; some are positively dire. (I strongly caution against Love Wedding Repeat, which debuted a few weeks ago.)

Always Be My Maybe, on the other hand, is a cut above.

The premise and execution may be familiar, but the snarky script and sharp acting — with solid, character-rich performances even by minor players — makes this a thoroughly scrumptious experience. It’s a dream project by co-writers Ali Wong and Randall Park, both accomplished actors and comedians, who wanted to produce their own version of When Harry Met Sally…

With solid assistance from co-scripter Michael Golamco and director Nahnatchka Khan — a noteworthy feature film debut — Wong and Park succeeded.

Aside from the engaging core story, their film is laden with nonstop asides, retorts and one-liners — all delivered with impeccable comic timing — and droll bits of visual business, some so subtle that you’ll have to watch a second time, just to catch them all (a not-at-all painful experience). This may be a modest endeavor, but it’s quite entertaining.

It’s also a hilarious — and dead-on accurate — send-up of pretentious foodies, and the vacuous celebrity culture.

But that comes later. We meet Sasha and Marcus — initially played engagingly by Miya Cech and Emerson Min — as 12-year-old neighbors in a friendly San Francisco neighborhood. She’s a latchkey sole child of parents forever busy elsewhere: essentially an orphan. 

She therefore spends considerable time next door with the traditional family that Marcus is lucky enough to possess; he and parents Harry (James Saito) and Judy (Susan Park) dote on each other, and Sasha becomes a grateful surrogate daughter.

Khan and her scripters breeze through the next few years in montage, hitting all the usual “young love” cute points. Because, clearly, they’re meant for each other … although each is too nervous — shy, uncertain, whatever — to acknowledge or act upon the bond.

Until, at the verge of adulthood — now played by Wong and Park — they do.

As often is the case with childhood best friends, sex ruins everything.