In less than a decade, Jon Spaihts has become one of the most sought-after science fiction writers in cinema, but his career began in an unusual way after his screenplay for Passengers was included in the Black List of unproduced, buzz-worthy projects. It would take the film almost ten years to make it to the big screen, and while it flourished in development limbo – with names like Keanu Reeves and Reese Witherspoon attached – Spaihts went on to write Alien prequel Prometheus, Marvel’s Doctor Strange, and the reboot of The Mummy opening next year. In Passengers Spaihts combines the elements that have made his other screenplays so compelling: moral uncertainty and unabashed hope in humanity.
The film centers on two strangers who find themselves as unlikely bedfellows when they are awoken from their 120-year sleep, 90 years ahead of time. Jim (Chris Pratt) and Aurora (Jennifer Lawrence) must find a way to either go back to sleep, or find a way to cope as the only two people alive in their microcosms. The film touches on the idea of men as god that he also explored in Prometheus – it’s no coincidence that his anthropomorphic androids are the most philosophically complex characters in his films – and in Jim and Aurora finds a recreation of the Biblical tale of creation, viewed under a fatalistic lens. I spoke to Spaihts about his unique career trajectory, morality in Passengers and modern moviegoing habits.
The screenplay for Passengers was famous before some of your other screenplays became movies. What was this phenomenon like for you as a writer?
It’s been extraordinary. Passengers was only the second screenplay I ever wrote back in 2007. It made it to the Black List, got a lot of attention, and as you can see it’s been a long road before it became a movie. In some ways that was great for me; as it circulated from hand to hand, the screenplay gained a fanbase of its own to the point where people email me or tweet me to tell me they loved reading it, or they studied it in a class somewhere. The screenplay became its own piece of art, which is not how screenplays usually live in the world. It’s served as my calling card, but there’s nothing as gratifying as having the film done in such high style.
Did you revisit it at any point?
I have been working on the movie on and off for nearly ten years. There have been dozens of drafts, some of them involve subtle changes. People who read it in the Black List know the story very well — the core story hasn’t changed much. I worked on the ending to find a way to tie up the characters’ relationship and the fate of the spaceship.
In terms of morality, Jim exists in a Dostoevskian world, rather than a traditional sci-fi universe. Were you inspired by existentialist literature when you wrote him, and can you talk about his moral dilemma?
There is a moral dilemma at the heart of the story. I think it’s very exciting to see a big sci-fi movie come out that’s rooted in deep character issues and in an ethical quandary, and a series of questions that arise from that, which go straight to the nature of love, fate, the dangerous power of secrets. I think the core is a great dramatic engine to the movie, and I hope that people come out having a long conversation about what they would’ve done, the choices made and the events that follow in the movie. I’m very excited to see the people will react to the movie. We made it deliberately difficult for that purpose.
Jim is from Colorado and Aurora is from New York. Perhaps I’m asking this because of the post-election state of the world, but it’s uncommon to see stories about great migration from white Americans. Once the film is out in the world do you think the film will be perceived differently because of the election?
That’s very interesting. The story is set in a future where the world is so densely populated that people begin to leave from every nation and every corner of the world. We see it’s a global passenger manifest with people from all over who want to start a new life in another planet. It’s interesting that the characters we come to know best are urban Americans who have chosen to leave for greener pastures.
How did you settle on the name Aurora? I obviously thought about Sleeping Beauty.
That was a lucky happenstance. I mostly wanted her to have a celestial name. I nearly named her Andromeda but that would’ve been shortened to Andy and I didn’t want that. Stella didn’t sound right either.
Did you see yourself as Aurora since she’s a writer and goes through writer’s block and seeks inspiration?
I honestly feel very close to both Jim and Aurora. Like Jim I’m a tinkerer. I love to work with my hands. My father is the same way — he’s an engineer, so I grew up in a house where people fixed things that broke apart. Jim’s world felt very near to mine.
Our culture is obsessed with debunking film “errors.” When you work on something like this or Doctor Strange do you try to cover all your bases in terms of scientific facts, in case popular scientists show up and try to correct your wrongs?
I always try to earn the confidence of as many viewers as possible. Whether you’re making up a science, there will always be a level of expertise where some people will think what you’re saying is ridiculous. My purpose as a writer is to set a high standard to get as many experts as possible on board. In different ways I tried to make those two films grounded in the real world, within their own universes.
Do you think this endless need to know what happens behind every little scene or effect is making us forget our suspension of disbelief, and therefore affecting the magic of going to the movies?
I do think there is an oddly self-destructive thing that the modern fandom of TV and film gets caught in sometimes, where out of pure enthusiasm and love of movies and TV, they try to know as much as they can, as soon as they can, and to guess things ahead of time. In doing so they demystify the very stories they love. I think it comes out of love — a desire to get as much from those stories as they can. Sometimes we hurt ourselves by trying to learn too much and expose too much — in some ways exploiting the romance as the stories they love.
Do you remember the moment when watching this inexplicable magic you realized you needed to write movies?
I saw Star Wars in the theater as a little kid and was thrilled and terrified by it. I clung to my father’s arm, and I think it was a profoundly formative experience for me, as it was for many other people of my generation. I think that was the first time a movie drew me in so completely and astonished me with its fantastic world.
Speaking of terrified, I spoke to Morten about that drowning scene with Jennifer’s character which I found scarier than any horror movie I’ve seen recently. Does writing things like these help you deal with your own fears?
Absolutely. A writer, if he or she is doing it right, is always channeling his or her own fears and inspirations. You have a visceral experience on the keyboard, you go deep into this world, so yes, all of my fears are reflected in the calamities of the film, and my romantic nature is reflected in the love story.
Can you name a few of your favorite screen romances, perhaps some you think would make a great double bill with Passengers?
The first movie romance that every broke my heart and blew me away was Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet. It was a beautiful Shakespearean treatment, with two incredible players. It absolutely broke my heart and stayed with me forever. I also love the grand romances of classic Hollywood: Grant and Hepburn, Bogart and Bacall, the many stories of that time that drew from a playful meeting of the minds, as much as a meeting of the hearts and attraction. In those movies you see people falling in love with their mind and heart at the same time, and that’s a deep part of my sense of romance.
Passengers is now in wide release.