Once the conflict rears its ugly head, the film becomes one of the most terrifying and heart-pounding theatrical experiences one can imagine. The first third is such an unrelenting exercise that we’re almost afraid to catch our breath when the film takes a breath in the second act to take stock of the situation. Gravity expertly plays on primal fears, offering the unparalleled beauty of deep space while reveling in the clinical horrors of its in-habitability. The film switches on a dime between awe and terror, often in the same unblinking shot, all while keeping our focus on the external and internal struggles of our two main characters. It is the character work that keeps this from becoming merely a top-notch amusement park attraction.

Both Bullock and Clooney are superb, crafting authentic and relatable slice-of-life portraits that earn your sympathy. It is not just our empathy than inspires us to care, but our rooting interest in the survival of these specific characters. Bullock especially gives a tour-de-force dramatic performance, and it is to the film’s credit that she is allowed to be both very strong and very weak without either trait defining her. Her major third-act dialogue sequence is a  low-key and heartbreaking declaration of survival and forgiveness that, in a less special effects-heavy picture, would guarantee an Oscar nomination. Clooney is fine too of course, offering an engaging and thoughtful supporting turn that offers the little humor the picture has to offer.

Gravity is a complete package. It is not merely content with offering some of the most astounding cinematic imagery you’ve ever seen or even merely content to offer that imagery in the service of an incredibly intense survival story that parallels any pure horror film for sheer terror. Alfonso Cuarón’s and Jonás Cuarón’s screenplay offers real character work and moments of poetic grace to go along with the technical splendor, and it is as emotionally compelling as it is visually fantastic. Gravity is one of those would-be blockbusters that comes along every decade or so, like The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, that serves to remind us how little we expect from our biggest films. Big-scale movie making at its best doesn’t just wow the eyes but stirs the soul.

Gravity is the most compelling, moving, frightening, and jaw-dropping cinematic concoction of the year. It is a glorious example of why we go to the movies and why the theatrical exhibition system is worth fighting for. It is a glorious counter-argument dropped square on the head of those who would proclaim the death of cinema, as it best encapsulates what the movies, movies seen on a giant screen in a dark theater, can do and what they can deliver better than any other art form. It is a glorious… well, it’s just plain glorious in every conceivable way, arguably as close to a perfect film of this scale that I can recall.

Gravity isn’t just the movie of the year.  It may-well be go down as one of the best movies I’ve ever seen.