The bottom line is that the disc’s interesting bonus features help highlight why the film’s reach exceeds its grasp...

For certainly there’s much to admire about Pandorum, both in intention and execution. Strong set designs, nasty creatures, superior cinematography, and effective editing are just part of a thoughtful and meticulous production. Plus, there’s a very solid performance from Ben Foster, whom it’s nice to see graduate from offbeat character actor to unconventional lead (he seems better suited to withstanding beatings than delivering them).

But given all these assets, why does Pandorum strike one as being staggeringly less than the sum of its parts? In the featurette included on the DVD, director Christian Alvart remarks that he approached Pandorum as an allegory, and of course there’s nothing with that, as sci-fi tales about isolation, terror, and madness in outer space make natural fodder for existential parables. The problem is that such an approach, as well as Alvart’s strengths as a director, is somewhat at odds with the more popcorn-friendly sensibility that seems to have been grafted onto Pandorum’s central conceit.

Isolation and suffering in chrysalis-like chambers: Pandorum is about the agony of being reborn, both for individuals and for civilization. (Photo courtesy Overture Films. Credit: Jay Maidment © 2009 Constantin Film Produktion GmbH)

In fact, I’d submit that Pandorum would have worked better if it had opted decisively to be a straight-up “thinking person’s” allegory… or a pulp-infused allegory with action and horror foregrounded over its philosophical musings. Splitting the difference has halved the impact of the film and disappoints audiences looking for either the cerebral or the visceral. Granted, appealing to the former segment doesn’t usually make for box office gold with genre titles, and a good case in point might be Duncan Jones’s Moon, also released in the last year. Another apt comparison might be to Eden Log, which shares several thematic elements with Pandorum. Far more boring than Pandorum, it’s also far more enthralling: its convictions simply feel less calculated and more heartfelt all the way through. Pandorum, by contrast, gives the impression that it’s constantly hedging, throwing in martial arts sequences, for example, as if second-guessing its own talkiness.

The opening act, before we get involved in more standard flee-from-the-monsters and race-against-time tropes, is quietly compelling. The deleted scenes included on the DVD only emphasize the relative strength of this opening over the more formulaic aspects that follow: we gradually come to realize that the spaceship’s architecture and inhabitants are a metaphor for humankind at various stages of evolutionary and political development. In narrative terms, the initial disorientation of the characters—Foster’s and Dennis Quaid’s awaken from a slumber of unknown duration and have no idea of what’s going on or who’s in charge—is shared by us, and so the plot begins on an intriguing note.

Very quickly, though, the videogame/Resident Evil background of the producers becomes evident. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Through Foster as our point-of-view character, Pandorum replicates a gamer’s inductive exploration of the environment, uncovering layers of mystery even as he’s forced to respond to unexpected threats. He encounters new characters on a regular basis, and after speaking to each in turn learns a little more about what’s happened and what he needs to do—the audience practically feels a controller in its hands, almost sees an onscreen list of options to choose from during each of these episodes.

Alvart and co-writer Travis Milloy try to up the ante by adding a psychological component to the story, with Foster’s memories slightly suspect and Quaid playing mind games with another awakened crew member. And Alvart is certainly at home when it comes to the psychological, as evidenced by his ambitious thriller Antibodies (currently being remade in English). The problem here is that there’s not really enough psychology for him to sink his teeth into—sure, there are a couple of surprise revelations near the end, but by that point we have long since ceased to care. What the creative team fails to understand, or maybe act upon, is that dramatically we need to be more thoroughly invested in the characters—this happens naturally in an immersive game environment because we are the characters. In a film we simply need more than the shorthand provided here.