When scientists aboard an orbiting research station begin to lose their wits and drop off the grid, a psychologist is sent hurtling through the cosmos to seek answers. He discovers the vessel almost completely abandoned and manages only fleeting contact with the high-strung survivors, then sees and interacts with a vision of his long-dead wife. Convincing hallucinations seem to be a common trend here, believed to be an unorthodox method of communication for the sentient ocean on the planet far below, but the depths of its knowledge and the purpose behind its entreaties remain shroud in mystery.

I’ll normally go in for cerebral sci-fi, particularly films that deal with the unstable nature of human perception. _Ghost in the Shell_ considers similar themes in a different context, and that’s one of my all-time favorites. It doesn’t move fast, but I’m never left wanting. _Solaris_, by contrast, bored me to sleep on three separate occasions. I think my biggest objection, besides the grueling pace, is how much metaphorical air is left in the room. There’s just one central question, left to linger throughout, and then a mild conceptual tickle at the very end. It offers a near-total lack of variety or plot progression. What atmosphere exists is left oppressively bare, bleak and sterile. God, it’s dull. Hopelessly, smotheringly dull.

Sometimes long, well-crafted films can feel much shorter than their run time. Alternately, a densely-packed short film will sometimes feel much bigger than its duration. Both circumstances can be attractive, if properly managed. This is a long film that feels like it runs for a century. It dwells, stares and deliberates for nearly three hours, poring over the same single, open question without interruption, then offers next to no resolution. Not my idea of a good time. Not at all.