Typically, movies involving one person in the ocean are never happy stories. You either get stranded at sea (“All Is Lost”), attacked by sharks (“The Shallows”), or trapped on a raft Sam Claflin (“Adrift”). Admittedly, all three of the aforementioned scenarios might all be blessings depending on who you are. Feel-good films featuring a prominent role for the ocean simply do not exist, and “Styx” does very little to alter this cinematic pattern.
Directed by Wolfgang Fischer, “Styx” tells the story of Rike (Susanne Wolff), a German emergency room physician who sets sail on the high seas in hopes of visiting a remote island. However, after her boat is dragged into a storm, she stumbles across a freighter occupied by dozens of refugees. After the Coast Guard fails to intervene, Rike is forced to decide whether she will risk her own life to save the refugees, or let nature take its course.
Apart from retaining the gritty pessimism of its contemporaries, “Styx” is minimalist filmmaking executed in superbly sharp fashion. In regards to optimism, the film makes “The Perfect Storm” look like “Finding Nemo.” There is not an ounce of happiness to be found within the drama’s 94-minute runtime, a duration that alternates between a brisk tempo and numbingly sluggish downtime.
Nevertheless, the primary factor permitting “Styx” to warrant any sort of recognition is inarguably Susanne Wolff’s dynamically subtle performance. Coinciding with the flick’s allergy to dialogue, Wolff is limited to facial expressions for a noticeable majority of the feature. Remarkably, the actress accomplishes more in a glance than most of her peers could ever hope to achieve with minute-long, uninterrupted diatribes. In the film’s opening minutes, the audience gains a reasonable understanding of the character’s motivation and backstory simply through the luxury of eye-popping visual storytelling. Consequently, Benedict Nuenfels’s cinematography steals your undivided attention, and never once relents its evocative authority.
Equally, human nature and the concept of natural selection reside as the pillars of the film’s predominant themes. The amount of development allowed to Rike is strikingly slight, although this is conceivably the director’s desire for the character to function more as an avatar for viewers, as opposed to a memorable protagonist. For all intents and purposes, “Styx” is an open seas survival simulator, fully equipped with moral quandaries that will likely torment the remainder of your day after the credits roll. The film offers blank answers to the questions it poses, and although this fact increases the overarching sensation of shallowness that hinders the movie’s memorability, it simultaneously operates as its prevailing compliment.
The conflicting emotions of self-preservation and one’s obligation to save lives continually shift the spectrum as Rike’s situation unfolds, forcing you to consider how you would react if placed in her position. As the minutes tick by, with no indication of rescue in sight, one cannot help but ponder upon the delicate essence of life on Earth. As Rike and the refugees hopelessly toil away in nature’s playground, the ocean remains the same—apathetic and uncaring. “Styx” forces you to confront the fact that, in the all-encompassing picture, human life is exceptionally fragile. As a result, this brand of philosophical horror that the film conjures up might endure as one of the most emotionally upsetting experiences you will encounter in a theater this year.
Conversely, the effect that “Styx” plays on your mind will likely vary from viewer to viewer. The film keeps the door for interpretation open so wide, that some might wander in and leave unaffected; truthfully, “Styx” is simplistic to a near-crippling degree. On a related note, the total absence of a conventional, or even semi-satisfying, conclusion nearly deprives the film of providing any resonance whatsoever. Nevertheless, this margin for subjectivity allows this stripped bare, three-act tragedy to shine as a commendably bold work of art.
At the very least, “Styx” is thought-provoking. Whether this contemplation on life will stem from a sensation of hopelessness burrowed inside your chest or a state of unadulterated frustration is yet to be seen, but “Styx” bottles up enough enjoyable misery to leave you questioning just how much you matter in this world—or if you even matter to anyone at all. [B]