by Thorne, Kip
But Steven hung in there with us, awaiting Jonah’s return. He and Lynda could have hired somebody else to complete the screenplay, but they so valued Jonah’s talents that they waited.
Finally in February 2010 Jonah was back, and on March 3, Steven, Lynda, Jonah, and I had a very productive meeting to discuss Jonah’s nine-month-old draft 3. I was feeling a bit giddy. At last we were back on track.
Fig. 1.1. Jonah Nolan, Kip, and Lynda Obst.
Then on June 9, with Jonah deep into draft 4, I got an e-mail from Lynda: “We have a Steven deal problem. I’m into it.” But it was not soluble. Spielberg and Paramount could not reach an agreement for the next phase of Interstellar, and Lynda couldn’t broker a solution. Suddenly we had no director.
Interstellar was going to be very expensive, Steven and Lynda had independently told me. There were very few directors with whom Paramount would entrust a movie of this magnitude. I envisioned Interstellar in limbo, dying a slow death. I was devastated. So was Lynda, at first. But she is a superb problem solver.
Christopher Nolan, the Director and Screenwriter
Only thirteen days after Lynda’s we-have-a-Steven-deal-problem e-mail, I opened my e-mail queue to find a euphoric follow-on message: “Great talk with Emma Thomas . . .” Emma is Christopher Nolan’s wife/producer and collaborator on all his movies. She and Christopher were interested. Lynda was tremulous with excitement. Jonah called and told her, “This is the best possible outcome.” But the deal, for many reasons, would not be finalized for two and a half years, though we were fairly certain Christopher and Emma were committed.
So we sat. And waited. June 2010, through 2011, to September 2012. Throughout, I fretted. In front of me, Lynda projected an air of confidence. But she later confided having written these words to herself: “Tomorrow we could wake up and Chris Nolan could be gone, after two and a half years of waiting. He could come up with his own idea. Another producer could hand him a script he likes more. He could decide to take a break. Then I would have been wrong to have waited for him all this time. It happens. That is my life, the lives of creative producers. But he’s the perfect director for us. So we wait.”
At last negotiations began, far, far above my pay grade. Christopher Nolan would direct only if Paramount would share the movie with Warner Bros., the studio that had made his last few movies, so a deal—an extremely complex deal—had to be struck between the two studios, normally rivals.
Finally, on December 18, 2012, Lynda e-mailed: “par and warners agreed to terms. Well chop my liver! starting in spring!!!” And from then on, with Interstellar in Christopher Nolan’s hands, so far as I could tell all was clear sailing. At last! Clear, fun, and invigorating.
Christopher knew Jonah’s screenplay well. They are brothers, after all, and had talked as Jonah wrote. They have a phenomenally successful history of collaborating on screenplays: The Prestige, The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises. Jonah writes the initial drafts, and then Christopher takes over and rewrites, thinking carefully about how he will film each scene as he crafts it on paper.
With Interstellar now fully in Christopher’s own hands, he combined Jonah’s script with the script from another project he’d been working on, and he injected a radically fresh perspective and a set of major new ideas—ideas that would take the movie in unexpected new directions.
In mid-January, Chris, as I soon came to call him, asked to meet me one-on-one in his office at Syncopy, his movie production company on the Warner Bros. lot.
As we talked, it became clear that Chris knew a remarkable amount of relevant science and had deep intuition about it. His intuition was occasionally off the mark, but usually right on. And he was tremendously curious. Our conversations often diverged from Interstellar to some irrelevant science issue that fascinated him.
In that first meeting, I laid on Chris my proposed science guidelines: Nothing will violate firmly established laws of physics; speculations will all spring from science. He seemed positively inclined, but told me that if I didn’t like what he did with the science, I didn’t have to defend him in public. That shook me up a bit. But with the movie now in postproduction, I’m impressed how well he followed those guidelines, while making sure they didn’t get in the way of making a great movie.
Chris worked intensely from mid-January to early May rewriting Jonah’s screenplay. From time to time he or his assistant, Andy Thompson, would phone me and ask that I come to his office or his home to talk about science issues, or come to read a new draft of his screenplay and then meet to discuss it. Our discussions were long, typically ninety minutes, sometimes followed by long phone calls a day or two later. He raised issues that made me think. As when working with Jonah, my best thinking was in the dead of night. The next morning I would write up my thoughts in a several-paged memo with diagrams and pictures, and hand carry them to Chris. (Chris worried about our ideas leaking out and spoiling his fans’ mounting anticipation. He’s one of the most secretive filmmakers in Hollywood.)
Chris’s ideas occasionally seemed to violate my guidelines but, amazingly, I almost always found a way to make them work, scientifically. Only once did I fail miserably. In response, after several discussions over a two-week period, Chris backed off and took that bit of the film in another direction.
So in the end I have no qualms about defending what Chris did with the science. On the contrary, I’m enthusiastic! He turned into reality Lynda’s and my dream of a blockbuster movie with foundations of real science, and with real science woven throughout its fabric.
In the hands of Jonah and Chris, Interstellar’s story changed enormously. It resembles Lynda’s and my treatment only in broadest brushstrokes. It is so much better! And as for the science ideas: they are not all mine by any means. Chris brought remarkable science ideas of his own to the film, ideas that my physicist colleagues will assume were mine, ideas that I said to myself, when I saw them, Why didn’t I think of that? And remarkable ideas arose from my discussions with Chris, with Jonah, and with Lynda.
Fig. 1.2. Kip and Christopher Nolan talking on set in the Endurance's control module.
One April evening, Carolee and I threw a big party for Stephen Hawking at our home in Pasadena, with a diverse crowd of a hundred people: scientists, artists, writers, photographers, filmmakers, historians, schoolteachers, community organizers, labor organizers, business entrepreneurs, architects, and more. Chris and Emma came, as well as Jonah Nolan and his wife Lisa Joy, and of course Lynda. In the late evening, we stood together for a long time on a balcony, under the stars, far from the party noise, talking quietly—my first opportunity to get to know Chris as a man, rather than a filmmaker. It was so enjoyable!
Chris is down to earth, fascinating to talk with, and has a great sense of wry humor. He reminds me of another friend of mine, Gordon Moore, the founder of Intel: Both, at the pinnacle of their fields, completely unpretentious. Both driving old cars, preferring them to their other, more luxurious cars. Both making me feel comfortable and, introvert that I am, that’s not easy.
Paul Franklin, Oliver James, Eugénie von Tunzelmann: The Visual-Effects Team
One day in mid-May 2013 Chris phoned me. He wanted to send a guy named Paul Franklin over to my home to discuss the computer graphics for Interstellar. Paul came the next day, and we spent a delightful two hours brainstorming in my home office. He was modest in demeanor, by contrast with Chris’s forcefulness. He was brilliant. He showed a deep knowledge of the relevant science, despite having majored in the arts in college.
As Paul was leaving, I asked him which graphics company he was thinking of using for the visual effects. “Mine,” he responded, mildly. “And what company is that?” I asked, naively. “Double Negative. We have 1000 employees in London and 200 in Singapore.”
After Paul departed I Googled him and discovered that not only had he cofounded Double Negative, he had also won an Academy
Award for the visual effects in Chris’s movie Inception. “It’s time I get educated about this movie business,” I murmured to myself.
In a video conference a few weeks later, Paul introduced me to the London-based leaders of his Interstellar visual-effects team. Most relevant to me were Oliver James, the chief scientist who would write computer code underlying the visual effects; and Eugénie von Tunzelmann, who led the artistic team that would take Oliver’s computer code and add extensive artistic twists to produce compelling images for the movie.
Fig. 1.3. Paul Franklin and Kip.
Oliver and Eugénie were the first people with physics training that I had met on Interstellar. Oliver has a degree in optics and atomic physics, and knows the technical details of Einstein’s special relativity. Eugénie is an engineer, trained at Oxford, with a focus on data engineering and computer science. They speak my language.
We quickly developed a great working relationship. For several months, I struggled near full time, formulating equations for images of the universe near black holes and wormholes (Chapters 8 and 15). I tested my equations using low-resolution, user-friendly computer software called Mathematica, and then sent the equations and Mathematica code to Oliver. He devoured them, converted them into sophisticated computer code that could generate the ultra-high-quality IMAX images needed for Interstellar, and then passed them on to Eugénie and her team. It was a joy working with them.
Fig. 1.4. Eugénie von Tunzelmann, Kip, and Oliver James.
And the end product, the visualizations in Interstellar, are amazing! And scientifically accurate.
You cannot imagine how ecstatic I was when Oliver sent me his initial film clips. For the first time ever—and before any other scientist—I saw in ultrahigh definition what a fast-spinning black hole looks like. What it does, visually, to its environment.
Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Michael Caine, Jessica Chastain
On July 18, two weeks before filming was to begin, I received an e-mail from Matthew McConaughey, who plays Cooper: “per Interstellar,” he wrote, “I’d like to ask you some questions and . . . If you are around L.A. area, in person is preferable. Lemme know please, thanks, in process, mcConaughey.”
We met six days later, in a suite at L’Hermitage, a boutique hotel in Beverly Hills. He was ensconced there, struggling to wrap his head around the role of Cooper and the science of Interstellar.
When I arrived, he opened the door dressed in shorts and a tank top, barefooted and thin from having just filmed Dallas Buyers’ Club (for which he later won the Oscar for best actor). He asked if he could call me “Kip”; I said of course and asked what I should call him. “Anything but Matt; I hate Matt.” “Matthew.” “McConaughey.” “Hey you.” “Whatever you like.” I chose “McConaughey” as it trips off the tongue so nicely, and there are too many Matthews in my life.
McConaughey had removed all the furniture from the suite’s huge living/dining room, except an L-shaped couch and a coffee table. Strewn over the floor and table were 12-by-18-inch sheets of paper, each covered with notes dealing with a particular topic, written in random directions, squiwampus. We sat on the couch. He would pick up a sheet, browse it, and ask a question. The question was usually deep, and triggered a long discussion during which he would write notes on the sheet.
Often the discussion would take off in unexpected directions, with the sheet forgotten. It was one of the most interesting and enjoyable conversations I’ve had in a long time! We wandered from the laws of physics, especially quantum physics, to religion and mysticism, to the science of Interstellar, to our families and especially our children, to our philosophies of life, to how we each get inspirations, how our minds work, how we make discoveries. I left, two hours later, in a state of euphoria.
Later I told Lynda about our meeting. “Of course,” she responded. She could have told me what to expect; Interstellar is her third film with McConaughey. I’m glad she didn’t tell me. It was a joy to discover for myself.
The next e-mail, a few weeks later, was from Anne Hathaway, who plays Amelia Brand. “Hi Kip! I hope this e-mail finds you well. . . . Emma Thomas passed along your e-mail in case I had any questions. Well, the subject matter is pretty dense so I have a few! . . . would we be able to chat? Thank you very much, Annie.”
We talked by phone, as our schedules couldn’t be meshed for an in-person meeting. She described herself as a bit of a physics geek, and said that her character, Brand, is expected to know the physics cold—and then she launched into a series of surprisingly technical physics questions: What is the relationship of time to gravity? Why do we think there might be higher dimensions? What is the current status of research on quantum gravity? Are there any experimental tests of quantum gravity? . . . Only at the end did she let us wander off subject, to music, in fact. She played trumpet in high school; I played sax and clarinet.
During the filming of Interstellar, I was on set very, very little. I was not needed. But one morning Emma Thomas toured me through the Endurance set—a full-scale mockup of the Endurance spacecraft’s command and navigation pod, in Stage 30 at Sony Studios.
It was tremendously impressive: 44 feet long, 26 feet wide, 16 feet high, suspended in midair; able to shift from horizontal to nearly vertical; exquisite in detail. It blew me away, and piqued my curiosity.
“Emma, why build these enormous, complex sets, when the same thing could be done with computer graphics?” “It’s not clear which would be cheaper,” she responded. “And computer graphics can’t yet produce the compelling visual details of a real set.” Wherever possible, she and Chris use real sets and real practical effects, except for things that can’t actually be shot that way, like the black hole Gargantua.
On another occasion, I wrote dozens of equations and diagrams on Professor Brand’s blackboards, and watched as Chris filmed in the Professor’s office with Michael Caine as the Professor and Jessica Chastain as Murph.1 I was astonished by the warm and friendly deference that Caine and Chastain showed me. Despite having no role in the filming, I was notorious as Interstellar’s real scientist, the guy who inspired everyone’s best effort to get the science right for this blockbuster movie.
That notoriety triggered fascinating conversations with Hollywood icons: not just the Nolans, McConaughey, and Hathaway, but also Caine, Chastain, and others. A fun bonus from my creative friendship with Lynda.
Now comes the final phase of Lynda’s and my Interstellar dream. The phase where you, the audience, have become curious about Interstellar’s science and seek explanations for bizarre things you saw in the movie.
The answers are here. That’s why I wrote this book. Enjoy!
* * *
1 See Chapter 25.
I
FOUNDATIONS
2
Our Universe in Brief
Our universe is vast. Achingly beautiful. Remarkably simple in some ways, intricately complex in others. From our universe’s great richness, we’ll need only a few basic facts that I’ll now lay bare.
The Big Bang
Our universe was born in a gigantic explosion 13.7 billion years ago. The explosion was given the irreverent name “the big bang” by my friend Fred Hoyle, a cosmologist who at that time (the 1940s) thought it an outrageous, fictional idea.
Fred was proved wrong. We’ve since seen radiation from the explosion, even in just the last week (as I write this) tentative evidence for radiation emitted in the first trillionth of a trillionth of a trillionth of a second after the explosion began!2
We don’t know what triggered the big bang, nor what, if anything, existed before it. But somehow the universe emerged as a vast sea of ultrahot gas, expanding fast in all directions like the fireball ignited by a nuclear bomb blast or by the explosion of a gas pipeline. Except that the big bang was not destructive (so far as we know). Instead, it created everything in our universe, o
r rather the seeds for everything.
I would love to write a long chapter about the big bang, but with great force of will I restrain myself. We don’t need it for the rest of this book.
Galaxies
As our universe expanded, its hot gas cooled. In some regions the gas’s density was a bit higher than in others, randomly. When the gas got cold enough, gravity pulled each high-density region inward on itself, giving birth to a galaxy (a huge cluster of stars and their planets and diffuse gas between the stars); see Figure 2.1. The earliest galaxy was born when the universe was a few hundred million years old.
There are roughly a trillion galaxies in the visible universe. The largest galaxies contain a few trillion stars and are about a million light-years across;3 the smallest, about 10 million stars and a thousand light-years across. At the center of most every large galaxy there is a huge black hole (Chapter 5), one that weighs a million times the sun’s weight or more.4
Fig. 2.1. A rich cluster of galaxies named Abell 1689 and many other more distant galaxies, as photographed by the Hubble Space Telescope.
The Earth resides in a galaxy called the Milky Way. Most of the Milky Way’s stars are in the bright band of light that stretches across Earth’s sky on a clear, dark night. And almost all the pinpricks of light that we see in the sky at night, not just those in the bright band, also lie in the Milky Way.
The nearest large galaxy to our own is called Andromeda (Figure 2.2). It is 2.5 million light-years from Earth. It contains about a trillion stars and is about 100,000 light-years across. The Milky Way is a sort of twin to Andromeda, about the same in size, shape, and number of stars. If Figure 2.2 were the Milky Way, then the Earth would be where I placed the yellow diamond.