Accidentally left behind and isolated on planet Mars, Mark Watney (Matt Damon) digs in deep in order to robustly flourish against overwhelming interplanetary odds, his team rapidly travelling back to Earth, unaware, that he still lives.
Contact is soon made with NASA headquarters yet bureaucratic dillydallying prevents him from communicating with his unsuspecting teammates.
Forced to survive, he employs his botanical ingenuity to boldly cultivate nutritious potato crops, while strategic planning contemplates his rescue back home.
The odds are grim that he'll ever return alive.
Yet trash talk and contentious humour ensure his independence is universally dispersed.
Spatial tenacity.
Temporal quid pro quo.
The Martian, juxtaposing the intense public relations of executive decision making with the humble orchestrations of an astronaut tilling barren countryside, indoors, mathematical inclusivity, scientific parchment, necessitated artistic leisure, perplexing public speaking, it strictly operates within established timelines to generate a complicated sense of extraordinary repartee by directly laying it down without overlooking conflict or relaxation.
Within this dynamic frame collegiality heartwarms and action accelerates whether it be physical exclamations or tense cerebral intersects.
Shaking hands and deliberating, the script's tight and the direction excites, from multiple starstrikes, with collective and individual decision making, infinitesimally precise calculations, and plenty, plenty, of disco.
Not bad.
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