There’s a part in Slingshot when Casey Affleck remarks to another character that by the time the spaceship he eventually finds himself on reaches its destination “I’ll be 39 years old.”
Casey Affleck is 49 years old. More importantly, Casey Affleck looks 49 years old. Most importantly, there’s no aspect of the story being told in Slingshot that requires his character to be any younger than 49 years old. All that the filmmakers needed to do was update the numbers and call it a day. Instead, they chose to include in their movie one of the biggest unintentional laugh lines I’ve ever come across. And listen, I’m not here to nitpick — this is an easily forgivable foible — but the movie that follows is so basic, bland, and predictable that this silly moment of poor scripting retroactively reads like a warning instead of a chuckle-worthy oversight.
Slingshot starts with a strong concept. John (Casey Affleck) is one of three men aboard the Odyssey, a spaceship on a course for Titan. The distant celestial body can potentially be mined for resources, and it’s their job to confirm it. Also on board is Nash (Tomer Capone) and Captain Franks (Laurence Fishburne). The trio has just emerged from hypersleep in order to prep for the titular maneuver: a slingshot around Saturn that will utilize the planet’s gravitational field for momentum, effectively launching the Odyssey into deep space without needing to burn fuel. It’s a long voyage that requires multiple sessions in their sleep chambers which, due to the drugs administered, can really wreak havoc on their mental states.
So when a mysterious collision causes the ship’s systems to act a little wonky, it’s only adding to an already volatile mixture. Should the mission proceed? Is the ship as undamaged as its diagnostics indicate? Is space dementia a real thing or was it just something that was made up for Armageddon?
These questions will surely not be on your mind as you watch Slingshot. They weren’t even on my mind as I wrote that sentence, but I had to come up with three things in order for the comedy to come through in the cadence. It’s called the “rule of threes.” Look it up.
Slingshot spends most of its runtime bouncing back and forth between the present day on the ship, where a potential mutiny is a-brewing, and flashbacks to a romance that formed between John and one of his science cohorts, Zoe (Emily Beecham). It’s a whole lot of background for very little payoff, and it’s indicative of the film’s most glaring problem: the whole thing hinges upon a series of absurd (and if you’ve seen a movie before, predictable) plot revelations that retroactively rob the preceding picture of what little depth it had, thus eliminating all rewatch value, and driving home the notion that the first two acts were a whole hell of a lot of wheel spinning.
This does not count the final and most extreme reveal which, despite being risible in the moment, is a rather bold stroke of the pen, all things considered. But even so, it’s only enough to make the moment fun. At nearly two hours in length, Slingshot is more work than it’s worth.
But it’s not all bad! There’s no denying the inherent entertainment value of a chamber piece populated with fantastic performers. Laurence Fishburne and Casey Affleck are two of the best to ever do it, and it’s a joy to watch them chew scenery together. There’s a level of intensity reached between them that heavily utilizes their physicality. Fishburne is an imposing presence, and his role as captain is one that, especially in the face of potential mutiny, maximizes his incredible abilities. Same goes for Affleck. He’s a much smaller man than L-Fish, which manifests a natural empathy. It’s easy to buy his character, and even easier to take his side at points when the hints of an unreliable narrator hang close to the proceedings. Their dynamic is essential in selling the film’s final series of narrative flourishes, and it’s the one department where this underwhelming film excels.
As effortlessly engaging as these two lauded performers are, the show is stolen from them by a supporting turn from Tomer Capone. He has considerably less screen time than his co-stars, but his performance is one that, given his sub-superstar status, requires an excessive amount of organic character work. Is he the voice of reason or a showcase of the symptoms resulting from being lost in deep space? It takes an actor of exceptional power to ride that line. Slingshot is a film that depends upon the viewer’s uncertainty and it’s Capone’s presence that insulates the film from being one-sided in terms of audience allegiance. It’s the most essential role, and he knocks it out of the park.
Yet at the end of the day, it all comes down to the script, and unfortunately this one is a bit too contrived and predictable to make good use of its better pieces. Slingshot is enjoyable enough in fits and starts, but as a whole it’s two hours not very well spent. A valiant effort, but it just doesn’t come together.
Directed by Mikael Håfström
Written by R. Scott Adams, Nathan C. Parker
Starring Casey Affleck, Laurence Fishburne, Emily Beecham, Tomer Capone
Rated R, 119 minutes
