Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (12A)

Passengers (12A)

THE sharp end of this year’s Christmas film-going offers two very different approaches to science fiction. If you’re a Star Wars fan, there’s the first of the franchise’s “spin-offs”, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. If the galaxy far, far away is not your sci-fi of choice, then Passengers – a rare romance set in space – may be worth a warp drive away from the festive frenzy.

Disney is now alternating new instalments in the main Star Wars saga (which started with last year’s The Force Awakens) with stand-alone stories, of which Rogue One is the first. This tactic of annual releases can be viewed as a cynical milking of fandom; and yet, as directed by the talented Gareth Edwards, the new film offers a fresh and exciting approach to the template that justifies the exercise.

The story is set shortly before the first Star Wars film of 1977, outlining how Princess Leia came by the blueprints of the infamous Death Star. Felicity Jones brings emotional heft and kick-ass attitude to Jyn Erso, a sullen loner bearing the heavy burden of knowing that her father has designed the super-weapon. At first unwilling to help the rebel alliance, she eventually leads a rag-tag band around the universe in search of the Death Star plans, which contain the clue to how to destroy it.

Edwards and the film’s screenwriters have struck a good balance between the familiar – stormtroopers and exotic planets, potent glimpses of Darth Vadar and an eerie CGI resurrection of the late Peter Cushing’s bad guy, a plethora of in-jokes and references for the diehard fans – and a new set of characters. These include yet another comically scene-stealing droid and an Imperial commander (the great Ben Mendolsohn) who, when accused of confusing peace with terror, replies: “Well, you have to start somewhere.”

Most striking is the tone. We’re suddenly seeing all that myth through a grittier perspective; the action more resembles that of a war film than a space opera. The usually rose-tinted rebel alliance is presented as something fallibly human – undecided, untrustworthy, ready to utilise spies and assassins, having to deal with militants in its midst. More principal characters die here than in all the other Star Wars films put together.

The men in Jyn’s orbit would have benefited from a tad more charisma, but perhaps that too is in keeping with the nature of the piece. While still offering some lip-smacking space action and special effects, you might say that Edwards has brought Star Wars down to earth.

Passengers gives the genre a shot in the arm in a different way entirely. We’re so used to seeing space as the territory for intergalactic war or alien-driven fantasy, that it feels strange when it is simply the setting for a romantic drama. This novelty is what drives the film and also, ultimately, limits it.

The initial conceit is a cracker. The giant space ship Avalon is part-way through its long journey towards a new colony when two of its 500 passengers prematurely awake from hibernation – some 90 years too soon, in fact. With no-one on board to help them and a return message to Earth expected to take an unhelpful 55 years, mechanical engineer Jim Preston (Chris Pratt) and writer Aurora Lane (Jennifer Lawrence) are lost in space with only each other and a robot barman for company.

Moreover, they will die on the ship, years before it reaches its destination. It’s a staggering notion to come to terms with.

The actors skilfully handle the progression of their characters’ responses, from shock, bewilderment, fear and crushing sadness, to the defiant and desperate attempts to solve the problems, towards resignation.

And then, the delight in Jon Spaihts’s script, aided by the canny casting of two such attractive, funny and naturally appealing leads and some ace production design, becomes the romantic possibility.

As Aurora observes: “We’re the last two people in the world who would be together. But then, we’re the last two people in the world.” And if you’re going to be stuck with one person for the rest of your life, it will be a helluva lot easier if he’s Chris Pratt, or she’s Jennifer Lawrence, and your space ship is a high-tech paradise with unimaginable mod cons.

The rotating Avalon really is a customer-friendly joy, its design sleek and silver with art deco flourishes, its user-friendly services including fun space walks and an infinity pool that projects into space. If you’re in love, too, it can’t be all that bad.

But Spaihts throws two spanners in the works for his new lovers. One is, predictably, related to the dangers of travelling through space. More interesting is the twist to the way in which Jim and Aurora have been awoken from their pods, which adds a moral dimension to their predicament and intense pressure on this new relationship – with nowhere to go if they do happen to fall out.

With director Morten Tyldum (The Imitation Game) keeping a steady hand on the helm, and the human dimension spiced up with nice cameos by Michael Sheen as the cheerful robot barman and Laurence Fishburne (whose appearance is best left unexplained), this moves along pleasurably for a good while. It’s only when the plot and characters have reached their limits, too soon, that the filmmakers lose their grip. And a lame denouement makes one wish for an Imperial war ship to glide menacingly into view.