“We set out into the Universe to discover life, while life discovered us”

The Czech New Wave didn’t always need to be irreverent or darkly comical – in fact, there are some instances where some filmmakers working under the artistic manifesto managed to subvert expectations by going to complete opposite direction than their more notable compatriots, taking entirely new approaches to storytelling that were singularly unprecedented for their time. One such work is Voyage to the End of the Universe (alternatively known by its original title as Ikarie XB-1), a daring work of science fiction that pushes boundaries and challenges conventions in a way not many films at this time would have attempted. Director Jindřich Polák truly had his work cut out for him with this film, going on an adventure than blended the works of Jules Verne with the forward-thinking initiative of modern science that had yet to even imagine some of the scenarios Polák presents us with here. Equally balanced between bleak Kafka-esque paranoia, compelling science-driven speculation and poignant human drama, Voyage to the End of the Universe is a remarkably simple film that carries an enormous amount of heft beneath its unassuming exterior. A work of unmitigated ambition and almost endless audacity, Polák constructed a film that has the rousing energy of many other works of speculative fiction, which is bolstered by a certain elegance in how he approaches this line of questioning, as abstract as it may be, in order to form an unforgettable, haunting exploration of the human condition by looking at it from the perspective of an outsider, which is unquestionably a bold choice and one that pays off incredibly well, especially when it becomes clear this is well on its way to being one of the most underpraised entries into a genre known for its immense intelligence and continuous attempts to push the boundaries of what can be portrayed on screen.

One of the smartest and most insightful works of science fiction produced during its era, Voyage to the End of the Universe is the kind of film that tends to be an influence on never every other work in its specific genre, whether or not the creators of the subsequent works even realize it. Polák essentially made a film that served as a forerunner to some of the most famous examples of intelligent science fiction, namely Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris and Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar, and a bevvy of other constituents of the proverbial “smart space drama” sub-genre, where the mysteries of the cosmos come into direct contact with poignant human themes, creating a bilateral sense of narrative, whereby our inherent humanity (or lack of it) is challenged when we’re displaced from the comfort of our own planet and launched into something far more intimidating than we could ever envision. It’s truly difficult to not admire this film – somehow, it manages to be both effortlessly simple and beautifully profound, working from each with a kind of dedication that makes the fact that this film went unrecognized quite bewildering. With the exception of scholars of the Czech New Wave, and science fiction enthusiasts, Voyage to the End of the Universe isn’t celebrated as a work of sheer genius all that often, never having been given the due it so richly deserves, not only as a piece of immensely intelligent cinema but also in regards to its beautifully nuanced execution that makes it such an utter delight.

What precisely makes Voyage to the End of the Universe so incredibly compelling is how it manages to combine form, content and structure, creating an entirely new kind of science fiction that is still incredibly refreshing, even when looking at it from a contemporary perspective, where storytelling and visual effects have progressed to a radically new point, but still fail to capture the spark of brilliance Polák brought to this particular piece, a kind of immensely awe-inspiring dedication to the craft that simply isn’t seem all that often, especially not from a time in which the industry was still in the process of working out precisely how to explore the final frontier. This film is quite simply a technical marvel, working on the visual scope in a way simply not known for that time. What makes Voyage to the End of the Universe so special is how it employs such a simple means of conveying its story, it becomes almost entirely natural. Practical effects are the primary source of the film’s otherworldly appearance, and the director goes to immense lengths to convincingly use large sound-stages and elaborate sets (which are surprisingly never gaudy or clearly artificial) to convey the sense that we’re on this spacecraft along with this cast of characters. The film is seamlessly constructed, with not a single moment in it feeling untrue – and considering everything here was done entirely by hand, the lack of clear flaws in the filmmaking is almost miraculous – but it all goes towards classifying Voyage to the End of the Universe as something of a masterpiece of the genre, with its visual scope being almost unheard of for the time in which it was made. Viewing a science fiction film made over half a century ago is always an interesting experience, but this was one of the first times I was utterly shocked by how effective it was in conveying specific details, and while simple, it left me in awe in a way very few contemporary films on this subject ever could.

Considering Voyage to the End of the Universe came only a few years after Ed Wood’s groundbreaking science fiction disaster Plan 9 from Outer Space, which made use of similar methods, it’s not difficult to see why this is such a cherished piece of mid-century filmmaking, almost acting as something of a contrast to many B-grade science fiction pictures produced around this time, where a strong story intermingles with a dedicated crew who are committed to realizing this intimidating vision, ultimately resulting in a complex, layered work of speculative fiction that remains almost refreshingly unique, even by contemporary standards. This isn’t a film that begs too much discussion – it is quite matter-of-fact in its approach, taking on a simple story that doesn’t offer anything other than a quaint, compelling cosmos-set thriller that weaves the mysteries of outer space with more intimate enigmas of humanity. As the quote at the start of the review indicates, Voyage to the End of the Universe is intent on using its platform as a science fiction film to make a bold statement about humanity (an inextricable element of the Czech New Wave), and while it may lack the darkly comical surrealism or bold character-driven absurdity that normally defined this movement, it has the same sense of getting to the root of the human condition and exploring the inner depths of something we all experience, but struggle to articulate in coherent ways. Voyage to the End of the Universe requires patience and some suspension of disbelief, but this is easily achievable when you have a work as singularly gorgeous as this one. Truly an exceptional piece of filmmaking that lingers on long after the film has ended.