I’m not a fan of science fiction. I put up with it as a sort of marital compromise. But I recently watched a film that explores, in a very intense way, a subject I am particularly sensitive to: loneliness. At least, that is what I saw in it, the interpretation I chose to give it.
The film I’m referring to is Project Hail Mary.
The story itself is not exactly new: a space mission, everyone dead except one person, and a desperate struggle to find a way back home. What makes this story so beautiful is the encounter between two extreme forms of loneliness, the way this encounter is developed and portrayed, and the irony that finds its way into the most dramatic moments.
Two creatures, one human and one alien, from different planets, travel through space aboard their respective spacecraft with one common goal: to survive and make it back home. Each to their own planet, at least at first.
They make contact, overcoming doubts and mistrust.
The alien has a strong sense of humour, which emerges as soon as the two castaways manage to find a common language. This brings some lightness to the most dramatic moments and makes the alien feel remarkably human, making it very easy to empathise with him. And I say him because his new human friend calls him Rocky.
The film is essentially the story of two lonely creatures who seek each other out, learn to understand one another, overcome the obstacles that could prevent them from connecting, and eventually help each other.
They become so deeply connected that one of them changes his goals.
They become so deeply connected that loneliness no longer exists for either of them. It becomes nothing more than a distant memory, tied to a particular moment in time.
1 loneliness + 1 loneliness = 0 loneliness.
That sentence immediately resonated with me. I remember writing it down somewhere some time ago.
And it is true.
Mathematics has nothing to do with it, or perhaps we could say that, here, mathematics is proven wrong. Two lonely people coming together does not mean twice the loneliness. It means eliminating it. Erasing it.
How much loneliness is there around us today?
The courtyards where adults used to gather on summer evenings to chat, while children spent their days playing, have almost disappeared.
There is no time for evening conversations anymore. We are too busy organising the next day, getting ahead of ourselves, or simply choosing to spend our time in front of a screen that keeps us updated on current events or tells us stories. Like the one I mentioned above.
Children and teenagers still get together. They may play for a while, then sit down. Each with their own phone, playing video games, watching videos or communicating through messages. Each inside their own space, experiencing what I would call a “shared loneliness.”
I see it in the small park at the end of my street, recently renovated and maintained by a small group of volunteers whose numbers are gradually dwindling. Mostly retirees, because young people and adults are too busy running through the demands of everyday life. Participation and volunteering are powerful antidotes to loneliness. Yet sometimes they seem too demanding to coexist with the frantic pace of our daily routines. To paraphrase a familiar saying, perhaps we could say: “Better alone than committed.”
Large families no longer exist in the way they once did — the kind of families where there was always someone at home. Families where people helped one another, and when the family itself could not provide support, the famous courtyard was there to step in. There was no need for babysitters or carers. Children and older people were always, somehow, looked after.
We often say that human beings are social animals. But I fear we may be giving that concept a slightly different meaning today. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that human beings are social-media animals?
It is difficult not to feel lonely in a world where relationships seem increasingly fast, superficial and mediated by online communities. And yet, sometimes we are surprised when we take the time to have a real face-to-face conversation. We are surprised by how rewarding it feels. How comforting. How much it can envelop us simply to stop for a while and spend time with another person.
And we realise just how much loneliness has become part of our everyday lives and, at the same time, how essential these small bubbles of connection, these moments of genuine contact, are to our happiness.
How much mathematics simply cannot explain here.
Because:
1 loneliness + 1 loneliness = 0 loneliness.
By Cinzia Costi
