Dull space drama is Black Mirror without the satire
In space, no one can hear you yawn. That’s a rare positive for Noomi Rapace’s troubled astronaut in Constellation (Apple TV+), who spends her early screen time in this tepid and baffling interstellar drama trapped aboard a malfunctioning space station. Amid patchy communication with ground control, there’s not much for her to do beyond quietly panic – probably the best response to a script that lurches from one blandly hysterical moment to another.
There is a rich tradition of blending science fiction with horror. But rather than tap into the exhilarating dread of classics of the genre such as Alien and Event Horizon, Constellation writer Peter Harness (Mcmafia) struggles to achieve a cohesive tone – or even tell a comprehensible story. Rapace’s astronaut, Johanna Ericsson, is introduced racing across northern Sweden with her daughter, Alice (Rosie Coleman). The weather is ominous, the child dismayed – and Johanna seemingly undergoing some manner of existential meltdown.
A flashback to five weeks earlier reveals the origins of her trauma. On a spacewalk at the International Space Station, she has a surprise encounter with the skeletal remains of a Soviet cosmonaut – which seemingly crashed into the ISS having spent decades orbiting the Earth.
That Jo might be an unreliable narrator is hinted at throughout. Having returned to Earth, she is confused about her old life. How is it that the family car is blue rather than the red she remembers? Why do her husband (James D’arcy) and daughter gawp at her as if she’s sprouted an extra head? Why can Alice no longer speak Swedish?
Rapace works hard to sell her character as a rational woman grappling with a reality distorted by forces beyond her control. There is also a gruffly charismatic performance by Jonathan Banks (Breaking Bad) as a former Nasa astronaut with dark secrets about Ericsson’s recent mission.
Apple throws so much cash at its TV projects that it’s easy to become blasé about the lavish production values. Yet Constellation is stunning to behold: Rapace’s spacewalk, for instance, features better special effects than any Marvel movie in the last 10 years.
Alas, the Hollywood budget is an uneasy fit with a plot that plays out like Black Mirror without the satire. At the conclusion of the three launch episodes, it is clear some sort of ominous conspiracy is afoot. However, to reel the viewer in, Constellation needs to move faster. Instead, it floats about in a zero-gravity funk. The view is spectacular but the lethargic orbit makes for frustrating watching.
The challenge when making a documentary about conjoined twins is acknowledging the reality of the life-shortening condition without resorting to fake positivity – or, worse yet, piling on the misery. The refreshingly humane and optimistic
Inseparable Sisters (BBC One) walked the tightrope to perfection.
It portrayed seven-year-old Marieme and Ndeye Ndiaye not as victims or charity cases to be gawped at – but young people bursting with life and personality. The effect was ultimately hugely uplifting – yet you never felt you were being manipulated or that someone off-screen was cynically troweling on the saccharine.
The twins were born in Senegal’s capital, Dakar, but moved to the UK with their father, Ibrahima, to receive world-class treatment. The initial plan had been to separate the two at Great Ormond Street Hospital. However, when it was discovered that Marieme’s heart could not survive the procedure, the roadmap had to be re-drawn. “I came with a lot of hope,” said Ibrahima. “Maybe too much hope at the time.”
The twins were not expected to survive their first few days. But in their new home in Cardiff, they were thriving. Parenting conjoined twins brought with it many complexities. Fashion was a headache for starters. “You have to buy identical tops and sew them together,” said Ibrahima.
Marieme and Ndeye were very different individuals. Marieme was introverted, Ndeye more outgoing. They had different groups of friends at school, but both were clearly popular.
Around 70 per cent of conjoined twins die within 48 hours of birth. Even those who survive typically have shortened lifespans. This shadow hung in the background, and Ibrahima was well aware that his time with his daughters might be limited. But rather than despair or anger, his primary emotion was gratitude. “When you are told there is no future you live in the present,” he said. “I am completely immersed in the journey.” Inseparable Sisters provided an affecting snapshot of that voyage – it was a powerful monument to love, tenacity and living in the moment.
Constellation ★★ Inseparable Sisters ★★★★