Clooney plays the incredibly named Augustine Lofthouse, a scientist at the end of the world. He decides to stay behind after his station evacuates because of a planetary crisis. Not too many details are given, but Brooks-Dalton, writer Mark L. Smith, and Clooney are clearly suggesting our planet doesn’t have much time left, setting a film about climate catastrophe in 2049. (Remember when apocalyptic movies were further in the future? It’s getting scary. Also is that a “Blade Runner 2049” reference? Probably not but given the familiarity of the rest of the movie anything is possible.) Augustine discovers that there’s a space shuttle named Aether on its way to a home that isn’t habitable anymore, and so he makes it his mission to warn them to turn around and go back to the planet they were already scouting to take the future of the human race. The problem is that his signal isn’t strong enough to communicate with the Aether before it’s too late, and so he has to traverse the Arctic to get to a stronger one. And he has to do so accompanied by a mute girl named Iris (Caoilinn Springall), who happened to be left behind during the evacuation.
“The Midnight Sky” cuts between Iris and Augustine’s harrowing journey and the return voyage of the shuttle, led by a pregnant Sully Rembshire (Felicity Jones). Her partner Tom (David Oyelowo) is the Commander of the ship, which also includes Maya (Tiffany Boone), Sanchez (Demian Bichir), and Mitchell (Kyle Chandler). For most of the film, Sully and her crew have no idea what’s happening back on Earth, so as they navigate the dangers of space in an effort to return to a home that has been destroyed. While this makes for an inherently interesting premise—reversing the traditional space narratives of films like “Apollo 13” or “Gravity” while crafting what’s basically an ‘anti-rescue’ mission on the ground—Clooney never finds the stakes for the space half of his movie. The scenes set in space are expertly designed, and shot well by Martin Ruhe, but they feel entirely devoid of human emotion (until the final act manipulatively calls for it). There’s something so sterile and antiseptic about the space half of this film that it can’t maintain viewer interest or sympathy beyond a filmmaking exercise. It has no oxygen and no heartbeat.
The stuff in the Arctic is more effective and admittedly technically impressive, although the plot begins to make less and less sense—a scene in which Augustine crashes through ice and would almost certainly die from the hypothermia or shock breaks any sense of realism that had been tenuously achieved. Worst of all, Clooney can’t stick with a thread long enough to build tension or drama. We don’t feel Augustine’s commitment or drive because we’re constantly jumping to the tedious characters on the Aether or, much worse, to flashbacks that serve no emotional or character purpose until a final-act twist is revealed. Clooney the director seems to almost be fighting back against potential viewer investment, which makes the final act’s melodrama and twists feel all the more manipulative.