'Biosphere' spoiler-free review: The best 2023 movie you just might overlook
Two best bros plus trouble in a bubble equals good times, as established by the 1996 comedy Bio-Dome.
This year's sci-fi sleeper, Biosphere, holds true to this formula, and though it doesn't boast the daffy '90s whimsicality of the Pauly Shore/Stephen Baldwin classic, it is surprisingly funny. In fact, this slyly hilarious film is surprising in many ways, most of which are beyond the scope of its marketing campaign. Its first trailer has an art-house sci-fi vibe, given gravitas by critically heralded dramatic actors Sterling K. Brown and Mark Duplass. Adding to the mystique is the promotional campaign's noble efforts to preserve the pivotal plot twist that makes this movie a sensational surprise.
I know you're tempted, but don't search for spoilers.
In an age with globe-trekking promotional campaigns, trailers that flaunt the very final moments of a climax, and a social media landscape that is polluted by spoilers for every possible franchise and hotly anticipated title, it is an increasingly rare thing to be truly surprised in the cinema. And props to Mel Eslyn, who makes her feature directorial debut with this gem from a script she co-wrote with Duplass: Biosphere is brilliant in its surprises.
Wait, what's Biosphere about?
Without major spoilers: Biosphere centers on two men, trapped in a bunker, outliving the end of the world as we know it. What's happened to Earth is not directly revealed, and frankly isn't really important. What is important here is who these two are to each other at the end of the world. They are best friends since childhood.
On the surface, they seem an unlikely band of brothers from other mothers. Ray (Brown) is an intellectual whose contributions to this survival sphere are not only its construction and various life-preserving devices but also a library of science books. Billy (Duplass) is a garrulous goofball who spends his time pondering the metaphorical importance of the Mario Bros and doodling in Ray's books.
Right off the bat, Billy doesn't fit the mold of what we imagine when we think of humanity's last great hope for survival. While these two converse and bicker in a shorthand that expresses not only long-honed intimacy but also years in this quarantined roommate scenario, we are encouraged to wonder how they came to be here.
Biosphere will reveal those details, and with them comes a subtle satirical edge about power and politics.
Biosphere has shades of Swiss Army Man.
Don't mistake me. Nothing so outlandish as a farting corpse jet ski will spring from this indie offering. However, like the double-handed fantasy film that launched the Daniels, Biosphere centers on a friendship tested by isolation that's ultimately so close, so committed that it is literally transformative. It all begins with a development that has Billy excitedly exclaim, "Life finds a way!"
Appreciation for Jurassic Park is a surface-level commonality Swiss Army Man and Biosphere share. The score from Biosphere recalls Swiss Army Man as well, favoring a chorus of quirky voices humming and bah-bah-booping along. It's a detail not immediately noticeable, but the creeping charm of these voices, happily combining to create something bigger than they can alone, becomes a reflection of the movie's moving and hopeful message. Trapped alone at the brink of extinction, Billy and Ray find love in a hopeless place.
Where Swiss Army Man compared farts and sweded movies, Biosphere talks Mario Bros and offers subtle send-ups of comedy cliches, like dancing in the kitchen (see Practical Magic or The Big Chill). But the best bits are those that are unique to the plotline, including props like a shoe-box coffin, a hand mirror, and a hastily modified bedsheet. Within such sequences, there's a lot of silliness as these friends are confronted with their fears of death, change, and growth. But through it all, Eslyn captures their struggle with humor, heart, and humanity. We're not invited to gawk at these men under glass and laugh at them; we're invited to be embedded with them, sharing in their joys, sorrows, and their evolving, remarkable reality.
Sterling K. Brown and Mark Duplass share remarkable chemistry in Biosphere.
An odd couple for the post-apocalypse, Brown and Duplass are opposites visually and in attitude. While Billy is constantly rumpled and a bit paunchy despite their shared jogs around the biosphere, Ray is chiseled and chic — even though they both wear similar T-shirts and sweats. It's careful costuming, but it's also an energy. Ray behaves as if the world might pick back up at any moment, and when it does, he'll be ready to run right into it. Billy behaves like they're on an extended spring break, killing time. The unspoken is the annihilation beyond their bubble. That it's unspoken keeps things pleasantly light, which is how they have survived this long. Plus, they seem to really enjoy each other.
Brown and Duplass share a kinetic chemistry that instantly sells that they've known each other since a long-ago birthday party. It instantly grounds us into Ray and Billy's reality, where the worst has already happened, but at least they have their best friend. And it makes the transformation of this friendship all the more believable, even when things turn from science fact to science fiction. When moments get tense or tender, Brown and Duplass don't flinch. Together, they are deeply committed, and so pull us in to marvel at every moment of its tale of fragile hope.
More movies should dare to explore like Biosphere.
Some might snark at the mysterious center of Biosphere, applying to it an agenda or decrying it as a gimmick. Personally, I think such a read is cynical. Biosphere does not succeed or fail based on whether you know what it's actually about or not. It succeeds because it's so much more than that second-act twist.
Amid a movie scene glutted with huge-budget, wanna-be blockbusters that aim to satisfy with fan service instead of daring, Biosphere is a rebellion.
It's not flashy. It's not stuffed to the gills with stars or shocking cameos. It's a much lower-budget affair with modest special effects and very little in the way of spectacle, unless you consider fish scales fascinating. Instead, it's about a story that unfolds methodically, reveling in chemistry and human connection rather than sheer star power. It's a sci-fi tale that doesn't jet us into a far-flung future, but one that feels achingly familiar in its crisis and quarantine. It's a comedy that gets silly and outrageous but never makes its heroes into clowns. And it's a drama that bares its teeth as these men bare their hearts, for better or worse. It's heart-warming, heart-wrenching, soul-soothing, and belly-laugh funny.
So, don't miss out, because Biosphere might be the best movie of the year that you won't hear enough about.