“Voyager” takes a different approach to space colonization. Instead of using cryogenic sleep like many other sci-fi movies, it has people live for several generations. This seems intentional, not just a technical limitation. The setting is key to the story, allowing the film to criticize power structures that treat people as “tools.”
Young people are born as test-tube babies and raised entirely within the confines of a spaceship. Treated less as ‘human beings’ and more as ‘components of a project,’ their existence is defined by this cruel premise. It evokes in me a strong sense of discomfort and sharp questioning of modern society.
People in power often say that sacrificing a few is necessary for “the greater good.” The colonization plan in this movie is a clear example. To save those left on Earth, the young people are seen as “unavoidable sacrifices.”
Voyager as a Space-Set Lord of the Flies
Tye Sheridan plays Christopher, who serves as the film’s counterpart to Ralph, the rational leader from Lord of the Flies. Likewise, Finn Whitehead’s Zack embodies Jack’s hunger for power. For example, Zack’s shouting, “Follow me, I’ll find us food,” clearly mirrors the charismatic authority Jack displays in the novel.
However, comparing the two works highlights the film’s shallowness. In Lord of the Flies, the boys’ differing class backgrounds and upbringings shape their conflicts and deep social criticism. In contrast, the youths in Voyagers all share the same education and background, so the value clashes and resulting tension seen in the novel are missing from the film.
Understanding the Classic ‘Lord of the Flies’
Central to understanding this work is William Golding’s classic novel ‘Lord of the Flies’ (1954). This allegorical work depicts British boys, shipwrecked on a desert island during the Third World War, attempting self-governance in a world without adults, only to gradually descend into savagery.
The main conflict is between Ralph, the logical leader, and Jack, the aggressive hunter. At first, the boys try to keep things democratic, but as fear and hunger grow, Jack’s harsh rule takes over. Piggy is smart but physically weak, and while he stands for reason, he can’t stand up to violence and is pushed aside.
What Golding questioned in this work is the fundamental theme: “Is human nature inherently good or evil?” Once the thin veneer of civilization is stripped away, humans easily revert to savagery—this stark view of humanity is what makes Lord of the Flies a timeless work, even nearly 70 years later.
Visual Beauty, Direction, and the Charisma Woven by the Actors
Enrique Chadiak’s cinematography stands out, especially in scenes where the spaceship corridors amplify the sense of speed and energy. The close shots and lighting during the youths’ first taste of freedom visually capture their emotional release.
Conversely, as the power struggle intensifies, the lighting darkens, and the compositions become increasingly oppressive. This visual shift effectively heightens the narrative tension. Chaudhary uses the same spaceship set, but by skillfully alternating between light and shadow and between wide-angle and telephoto shots, he evokes entirely different emotions in the viewer.
The rapid editing and montage characteristic of director Neil Burger remain prominent. The visual style reminiscent of his depiction of drug use in Limitless functions here as a “release from restraint.” Geysers, blooming flowers, and standing body hair—these images symbolize the awakening of young people.
Regrettable Budget and Scale Constraints
Watching this film, I felt the constraints of its budget and scale. The spaceship set is beautifully designed but feels somewhat cramped. Given the premise of an 86-year-long stay, wouldn’t a more expansive space have been necessary?
One example of the film’s missed opportunities is a scene where a Black female scientist is repeatedly silenced and eventually killed. Even if intended as a reference to Piggy, it feels uncomfortable, especially since the film never addresses race or gender issues in its story.
The Lineage of SF Ethical Drama
This work reverses the “drugs enhance abilities” premise from Limitless. Here, stopping the drugs releases suppressed emotions and impulses. While this reversal is interesting, it lacks the impact of Limitless.
Furthermore, the ethical issue of treating clones and artificial life as “tools” has been explored in numerous SF works. Compared to masterpieces like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, or Naoki Urasawa’s PLUTO, this film’s shallow exploration stands out.
The Unsatisfying Ending
The movie ends on a somewhat happy note. But is it really a happy ending? The young people still haven’t arrived at their destination. What will they do for the next 80 years?
In Lord of the Flies, even after the boys are rescued, their time in savagery still haunts them. Similarly, the film hints that it could have explored its ending as a mere “temporary fix,” echoing the novel’s lingering effects, but instead chose a simple, easy conclusion.
This may stem from Neil Burger’s auteur style: his visually striking work rarely sparks deeper contemplation or lasting resonance.
Summary: The Courage to Not End with Questions Alone
Voyager, despite its innovative sci-fi premise and compelling cast, fails to fully realize its potential. It poses crucial questions—“What is humanity?” “What is power?” “What is freedom?”—yet lacks the courage to explore their answers.
If the filmmakers had aimed a bit higher—with a more diverse cast, deeper ideas, and an ending that covered the whole 86-year journey—this movie could have been more than just an “interesting sci-fi thriller.” It might have become a real masterpiece.
In the end, the biggest feeling I had after watching was, “What a waste.”
