The conventional cinematic equation goes something like this: Steven Spielberg x Stanley Kubrick + Ridley Scott (- CGI) = le cinema de Christopher Nolan. Add a soupcon of Carl Sagan, Borges, Terrence Malick and a few blackholes, wormholes and plotholes and you get Interstellar, an ambitious blowhard about a west African crop failure in America’s Midwest in the near future and the need to find an alternative life in outerspace – which may be closer than we think but paradoxically a lifetime away, what with relativity, quantum physics, tesseracts and the human aging process and ghosts. There are inconsistencies, longeurs and a slick willy of a performance from Matthew McConaughey plus Matt Damon showing up to ruin everything. There is righteous awe at a tidal wave and acceptance of the Apollo landings being faked in this brave new world (having been to NASA and seen the tinfoil production, I get it.). Nolan’s is at least an optical option for cinema, not the digital fakery being slopped over the unwitting punter. Why ask for the moon? We have the stars.