We Choose to Go

The scouts

The setup reads like every other lonely-astronaut riff until the dark comedy sneaks in—that tonal gear shift is the only reason this doesn't collapse into maudlin sci-fi grief theater, and Rios knows exactly when to deploy it.

A formally controlled meditation on absence and temporal rupture that understands its debts to both Tarkovsky's languor and the American space-program elegy; the restraint here is nearly architectural.

The entire film hinges on a single sustained take of the astronaut's face processing the moment she realizes 60 years have passed—no cut, no music spike, just the decision to let the actor breathe—and that choice is what transforms a premise into something that actually lands.

Reviews

With only 14 minutes to tell its story, the focus is kept on the terrifying question of acceptance rather than a more bravado-filled tale of triumphing insurmountable odds. Choice, as Rios argues with her film, is the ultimate arena of strength, bravery and acceptance.