Flying Lotus’ film *Ash* transcends the typical confines of science fiction, boldly stepping into the realm of cosmic horror. This year at SXSW, the movie stands out not merely for its narrative but for its underlying commentary on colonization and humanity’s dark tendencies. Eiza González’s portrayal of astronaut Riya is not just a journey to far-off planets, but a somber reflection on our failures to learn from history. The story begins with Riya waking up in a mysterious, desolate place, devoid of memories about herself or her crew—a premise ripe with existential dread. It nudges the envelope of fear, exploring the terror not just of the unknown but of what humanity has wrought when it seeks dominion.
A Tension-Fueled Narrative
As Riya grapples with her identity, the narrative catapults viewers headfirst into a grim scenario characterized by loss and desperation. The malfunctioning computer and dwindling oxygen supplies escalate the tension, effectively mirroring the fragility of human existence. The sound design plays an integral role, amplifying the claustrophobia of her situation, while the visual aesthetics create a sense of unbearable isolation. This rapid unraveling of reality draws parallels to the chaotic state of our world, where information is weaponized and trauma breeds further turmoil.
The Dark Shadows of Colonization
Underneath its cosmic exterior lies a critique of the colonization mindset that has plagued humanity. Riya’s flashbacks momentarily illuminate a past filled with naive ambition—a stark contrast to the bleak present. In those moments, as she reminisces about how they envisioned triumph and peace, we are drawn into a dissonance that rings true for anyone watching. History is littered with unchecked imperialism and the brutal silencing of voices that demand to be heard. The phrase “Let’s not f*ck it up this time” echoes as a haunting reminder that optimism can often mask destructive patterns.
Visual and Auditory Artistry
Flying Lotus employs a visual palette that is as unsettling as it is breathtaking. The artistic choices are deliberate; one can almost feel the influences from classic horror films like *Alien* and *The Thing*, yet Lotus imbues his creation with fresh urgency. The audacious use of color, alongside a score that oscillates between haunting melodies and pulsating beats, induces a sensory overload that contributes to the surreal experience. You may find yourself questioning what is real and what is the product of a warped imagination—a hallmark of effective horror.
The Future of Humanity—A Double-Edged Sword
At its core, *Ash* mirrors a broader concern about the future of humanity, especially as we reach for the stars while failing to address our earthly issues. While the story’s central theme points towards a cautionary tale about reaching beyond our grasp, it simultaneously serves as a paradox—a reminder that our very attempts to conquer the cosmos may forever be interwoven with our fragmented pasts. As Riya confronts the specter of her lost crew, we reflect on how the potential for advancement is often snuffed out by our inability to acknowledge the voices that are ignored.
The film is a stark reminder that the real horror might not lie in outer space, but rather within ourselves and how we have chosen to interact with the world around us. *Ash* encourages us to confront our tendencies to repeat the transgressions of history, leaving us with lingering questions about the essence of human progress and the potential price we might pay in pursuit of our dreams.
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