Microscopes to Movies: Revisiting Science Through Film and Personal Insights

I love science and always have. Despite my passion for the creative side of things, the way I like to understand things has always been reductionist- simply put, I like picking things apart. This outlook drove my academics specifically into understanding how systems operate, attempting to define what is living. I know a pretty big feet, sorry I haven’t really managed to do yet. However, what began as my optimist pursuit of biology led to feelings of imposter syndrome during my second year of university. As the system churned through students, ticking off qualification boxes, I felt left behind. My initial enthusiasm turned into inadequacy. Mediocre grades didn't feel great, but ultimately submitting things I wasn't interested in or proud of was what really finished me off.  I was convinced at this point, science wasn’t a space for me.  

 

But the great thing about me is that I am often very wrong about myself!

 

When returning apprehensively for my final year, my experience was completely different. Rediscovering my love for science in a new way, the crux being appreciating how science is applied effectively in society. Without this successful implementation, science risks becoming an insular endeavour. Introverted (and often quite socially inept) researchers shuffling around dark labs and a work devoid of progression or unchecked chaos. 

 

Now, I’m sure you may be thinking: why is Evie blabbering on about this incredibly moving self-actualisation character arc, playing the world’s tiniest violin, and not talking about films? I mean, after all this is my film blog, if you wanted to read about my character you’d have to steal my journal! However, like with many experiences in life, realisations are often paralleled in my enjoyment of film. 

 

Seeing how cinematic narratives shape our understanding of sciences, the ethics behind it and how this ties in with my personal identity is a subtlety. Yet, with a wee bit of reflection, it is clear to see how films depicting the impact of scientific discoveries can provide a lens through which we can ask these ethical dilemmas and we can explore their societal implications. It was clear to me at university the practical application of science is often lacking, scientists often leaving a huge amount of uncertainty about addressing any of their works’ potential impacts- both beneficial and detrimental- on individuals. This overlooked area is where cinema thrives. Through the powerful visual storytelling medium, films create the immersive experience needed to resonate novel science with mass audiences. Aiming to explore the complexities of human experience, the mash-up of science and fiction creates a literal lovechild of creativity and curiosity for me. 

 

In which films is this done? The incredibly accurate science fiction genre, of course! Often depicting dystopian scenarios or concepts that seem far removed from reality, sci-fi films frequently align more closely with real-world issues than many audiences are willing to acknowledge. These narratives can subtly reflect themes that resonate deeply with contemporary challenges and encourage viewers to recognise the ideas presented as not so far-fetched as they may initially appear. Looking back, my first experience with sci-fi films involved sitting through Star Wars marathons with my older brother. Being the youngest, of course I had no say in the matter. Yet, whilst these films at age nine or ten were just full of epic space battles and funny-looking aliens playing jazz (yes, that’s right, aliens playing jazz), they also explored themes like hope and resistance. Now, I can see how sci-fi films can prompt reflection on ethical dilemmas posed by scientific advancement but in a creative format for social commentary. And this is what gets me excited. 

 

The films Ex Machina and Gattaca serve as compelling examples of this. 

 

Both serve as poignant illustrations to challenge our perceptions of scientific advancements and ethical responsibility, here, cinema acting as an exaggerated mirror to my own academic interests. Ex Machina, at its core, raises critical questions regarding consciousness, free will and moral responsibilities of creators towards their creations. The story follows an artificial intelligence, Ava interacting with Caleb, a young and naïve evaluator. By presenting such a complex narrative through the medium of cinema, using an incredibly attractive cast (*cough cough* yes, I do fancy Domhnall Gleeson) and then setting it in a building so beautiful even Google autocompletes Ex Machina to include “filming location”, it subtly makes the unsettling themes more digestible for viewers. Or at least gets them through the cinema doors with overpriced popcorn buckets. For me, Ex Machina served as a gripping 110 minutes, followed by an intensely passionate yap session with my old housemates. A possibility that I believe art, especially in the more commercially consumed form of cinema, acts as a catalyst. Discussion. 

 

Gattaca is a film that, if you know the synopsis and me personally, you’d think I would have been jumping at the opportunity to watch and write about, as it centres fully around the ethical implications of genetics- but I must be honest with you readers. I was initially only recommended, and then only watched, this film because Uma Thurman is in it. A woman so beautiful, I have literally seen her cause a gay awakening. Regardless of my objectifying motive, the film tackles much larger implications by exploring the societal pressures that arise from a future potentially dominated by eugenics, a method of improving the human race, and the dangers of unchecked scientific innovation. The concluding message to take away is, that simply having a tool at our disposal doesn’t necessarily mean we should use it. 

 

In Ex Machina, the protagonist kicks off as this starry-eyed tech whiz, captivated by AI before he is thrown into this moral dilemma of consciousness and responsibility. Gattaca instead displays a protagonist determined to overcome the genetic prejudice he faces, fighting furiously for his rights. While both take very different character arcs, the respective protagonists spotlight messages of human identity and moral choices. Their different paths show how people deal with who they are when science starts changing everything. 

 

I must also preface that despite the ever so eloquently put-together thoughts on science in the cinema I have regarding these two films, I don’t actually think both of them are good. Ex Machina was brilliant; you should definitely watch this. Gattaca, on the other hand, is rubbish. The concept is so immensely let down by simply a very boring film. 

 

Despite this difference in quality execution, both these films not only scratch my inner nerdy bioethics itch but exemplify the potential power of cinema to navigate the uncomfortable. As I came to realise the reductionist view of science cannot just be it, the ridiculous and far-fetched ideas behind sci-fi films felt a lot closer than I think we would like to admit.  

 

With all that being said, instead of attempting to write a conclusion, I am going to repeat what I did in my last blog post. I ended with someone else’s words, ones that I felt represented everything I was rambling and completely overcomplicating my way through saying. I’ve decided this is how I want to leave you here, too. So, if anyone has made it this far, firstly, stop it, you’re making me blush! And secondly, I hope this clarifies everything above: 

  

“The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.”

 

- Isaac Asimov

Evie 23 October 2024