Rating summary

Movie		2.5
Video		3.5
Audio		3.5
Extras		0.5
Overall		2.5

The Astronaut's Wife Blu-ray Movie Review

Rosemary's Baby... in spaaaace!

Reviewed by Kenneth Brown July 19, 2012

Alright, relax. I'll concede. The Astronaut's Wife isn't Rosemary's Baby in Space. It inches awfully close, though. So close that it invites a host of unfavorable comparisons to Roman Polanski's critically acclaimed 1968 classic. Yes, divorced from Rosemary's Baby, writer/director Rand Ravich's slow-brew sci-fi chiller sort of works, particularly as it follows Charlize Theron on a rather credible descent into doubt, paranoia and maternal terror. But Theron is no Mia Farrow, ice-blonde pixie cut or no, and one actress can only shoulder so much of a film's burdens. Ravich (whose previous feature film credits include Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh and The Maker) is no Polanski either, much as he tries to crib the troubled but accomplished filmmaker's style, presence of mind, and mastery of tension. And The Astronaut's Wife, as deadly serious as it is desperate to be taken seriously, is no perennial horror classic. It doesn't match or surpass Rosemary's Baby. It merely drifts past; a late '90s curiosity, lost in space.

"Don't say a word, honey. You're fine. You're fine now..."

Theron plays Jillian Armacost, a newly pregnant housewife edging ever closer to madness after learning that her husband, a respected astronaut who narrowly survived a mysterious explosion in space, may not be her husband anymore. Johnny Depp, meanwhile, is woefully miscast (or at the very least mismatched) as Commander Spencer Armacost, the sleepy-eyed, Southern drawl'd NASA corpsman and seemingly devoted husband who may or may not be possessed by an alien entity. Jillian tries her best to smother her suspicions, but it becomes increasingly difficult as the kind of evidence only a wife would notice begins to mount. Still, she continues to resist her instincts, turning away fired NASA analyst Sherman Reese (Joe Morton, Dr. Miles Dyson in Terminator 2: Judgment Day), even as he offers her proof. The audio recording he plays shakes her out of her stupor, though, as does a VHS video that follows soon after. As her pregnancy progresses, Jillian finally has to confront a horrible truth: if Spencer isn't human, her unborn twins, conceived after her husband's return to Earth, might not be either.

Depp tries to spruce up the good commander and give him a few defining quirks, as is the eclectic actor's M.O., but it undermines much of what Ravich is trying to accomplish through the first and second acts of the film. Spencer is meant to be both an average joe and, possibly, a clever chameleon; a man so normal and husbandly that Jillian, and by extension the audience, is unsure of what to think or believe. Has Spencer been hijacked by an alien? Is he simply traumatized after a near- death encounter? Or is Jillian suffering some form of mental breakdown? Unfortunately, Ravich spoils the very same mystery he goes on to drag out for the better part of an hour, making it all too clear all too early that something out of the ordinary, whatever it was, did indeed happen during the commander's latest space walk. It's obvious the moment Spencer and his fellow astronaut, Alex (Nick Cassavetes), return to Earth, tight-lipped, dismissive and, for one of them, on the brink of seizure-induced death. And if that doesn't clue you in, Alex's instability and grisly end (by way of spontaneous hemorrhaging and bleeding) certainly should. The Astronaut's Wife sticks to the path forged by Rosemary's Baby; the difference being that Polanski made it difficult to know who Rosemary should trust while Ravich installs a flashing sign on each character's forehead. Alex and Spencer: DO NOT TRUST. Jillian, her sister (Clea DuVall), Sherman and virtually everyone else that appears in the film: TRUST. Why draw out a mystery if there's very little mystery to begin with?

Ravich's script, bloated and self-important, weeble-wobbles between '90s genre clichés and arthouse infatuation, essentially playing dress-up in its mommy and daddy's closet. The story repeats itself far more often than it genuinely surprises too, dialogue is downright silly at times, and Ravich's pacing, sluggish but deliberate, seeds more pretension than tension. The film has its moments, sure -- typically when Theron is the only one on screen -- and its supporting performances are serviceable. Not airtight, but serviceable. (Even Theron was more convincing in The Devil's Advocate, in a somewhat similar role no less.) Ravich, though, demands too much leeway. I'm not above looking past a glaring plot hole or suspending disbelief to enjoy a movie. I do ask that a film at least be cohesive, and therein lies the problem. Strike that. Problems. Plot holes are vast and numerous, leaps in logic more so, and Spencer is all over the place, hopping from one mood to the next as it benefits Ravich, not the evil alien that might be lurking behind the poor man's eyes.

Astronauts under such duress, refusing to answer questions and peering at anyone who asks with sinister intent, wouldn't be sent home with a pat on the back and a get-back-to-your-lives. NASA, God rest its soul, wouldn't dismiss anything with a "don't worry, kiddo, that's static," even in 1999. Particularly when that noise clearly isn't static, it's some otherworldly demon cry created to induce nightmares and cause widespread panic. For that matter, wouldn't the big brains and big wigs at NASA raise an eyebrow or two if a pair of unconscious astronauts somehow made it back to Earth in one piece after a horrific explosion? I'd go on but that would risk spoiling the ending, which takes a sharp right turn at ridiculous and raises too many questions of its own. Chief among them: why didn't Spencer quietly do what Spencer ultimately does as soon as he had a private moment with his pregnant wife? It would have saved him a lot of trouble, not to mention hospital bills, blood stains, shady denials and a whole lot of slinking around. The end result? As a skin-crawling, largely creatureless creature feature, The Astronaut's Wife evokes just enough dread and elicits just enough unease to earn a pregnancy-from-hell pass. Key word: just. But as an extraterrestrial twist on Polanski's Rosemary's Baby, it throws the space babies out with the bath water.

The Astronaut's Wife Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

Whether by Ravich's insistence or from sipping the on-set Kool-Aid, director of photography Allen Daviau's preening genre cinematography is all over the place. Warner, for its part, is reasonably faithful to Ravich and Daviau's erratic intentions, marrying The Astronaut's Wife to a 1080p/AVC-encoded video presentation that's just as fickle and inconsistent. The film's palette hop-scotches from bloodless to dull to dramatic, skintones are largely lifelike but occasionally anemic, and contrast, drab one minute and luminous the next, seems at constant odds with the image's otherwise able-bodied black levels and semi-satisfying delineation. Still, detail remains refined and pleasing throughout (barring some inherent softness here and there), textures are well-resolved on the whole, close-ups are quite striking and grain is present and filmic at all times. Daviau has a penchant for diffusion, which leaves more than a few shots hazy and smeared, but I didn't see any evidence of noise or grain reduction, invasive cleanup passes, or anything that might raise a red flag. Artifacting and aliasing don't pop up either, and the only instance of banding I caught circled the sun during Spencer and Jillian's dream. And while there is evidence of a somewhat heavy hand when it comes to edge enhancement, there isn't much in the way of unsightly halos or ringing to contend with. Age, a less-than-perfect source, and Daviau's original photography are responsible for most of the encode's shortcomings, and videophiles will react accordingly. Most fans, though, will be a bit more pleased thanks to the marked upgrade the Blu-ray offers over the previously released standard DVD.

The Astronaut's Wife Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

Much the same can be said of Warner's DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track, which doesn't deviate from the film's original sound design. Dialogue is lethargic and lifeless on occasion, yes, but for the most part, voices are clear, intelligible and distinct. Prioritization disappoints at times too, but even the best lossless track can't turn water into wine. LFE output is strong and supportive, albeit a bit hesitant when dread, rather than punctuated fear or chills, fuses the soundscape with a hum of low, ominous energy. The rear speakers do their part as well, expanding the soundfield convincingly and allowing crowded ball rooms, spacious houses and sterile examination rooms to distinguish themselves. Smooth pans, a few notable directional effects, suitably capable dynamics, and several truly chilling bursts of alien "static" only help, making The Astronaut's lossless track a good one. Not great, mind you. Just good.

The Astronaut's Wife Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

Only a theatrical trailer is included. One presented in 4:3 standard definition no less.

The Astronaut's Wife Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

Critics may balk, but The Astronaut's Wife still has its small share of impassioned fans. And more power to 'em. I adore Soderbergh's Solaris and Aronofsky's The Fountain, and both have been raked over the coals by audiences and critics alike. Ravich's distended, slowburn sci-fi chiller just doesn't do it for me. It didn't work in 1999 (although I seem to remember enjoying it more at the time) and it doesn't work in 2012. Ravich's story is full of plot holes, his script is peppered with cheesy dialogue, Depp fizzles, and Theron is left to shoulder a film preoccupied with its own grim seriousness. Warner's Blu-ray release is better -- breathing some much needed life into the film with a decent video transfer and a solid DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track -- but source issues, inconsistencies and at-times dingy photography doesn't bode well for its high definition longevity.