Science fiction gets really dangerous when the big idea stops feeling like the big idea. You go in thinking about artificial intelligence, alien language, space travel, prophecy, memory, whatever. Then two hours later you are arguing about loneliness, grief, faith, ego, parenthood, or whether knowing exactly how something ends would change your decision to love it in the first place. That is the sweet spot. The brain gets fed, the eyes get spoiled, and somewhere along the way the movie quietly punches through the chest.
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