Category: Entertainment

When "SpaceCamp" landed in theaters in June 1986, it should have been the ultimate wish-fulfillment movie, as if "The Goonies" had cashed in their hard-earned pirate treasure in return for a spin in an actual Space Shuttle.

It boasted a bigger budget than "Top Gun", a cast of up-and-coming young stars — including a future Oscar-winner — and a score by Hollywood's most famous composer. Twentieth Century Fox had bet big on a blockbuster hit, but a real-life tragedy four months earlier ensured the film was doomed to be an also-ran at the box office.

The real-life Space Camp at the US Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama, was a dream destination for any kid with an interest in science, math, and space exploration — the ultimate trip for tweens and teens with a passion for science and technology.

The brainchild of original Space & Rocket Center director Edward O Buckbee and Apollo rocket engineer Wernher von Braun, the facility opened in 1982. It has since welcomed over a million wannabes through its doors, including Elon Musk, Chelsea Clinton, and several attendees who went on to become actual astronauts.

Patrick Bailey, who wrote the original "SpaceCamp" story, got the idea from his wife, who'd spotted a news story about the camp while working as a researcher on American variety show "That's Incredible!"

He developed the idea alongside Buckbee, and the duo successfully pitched the project to producer Leonard Goldberg, who'd had a major hit with "WarGames" a few years earlier. (It's easy to see why Goldberg saw the potential in SpaceCamp, seeing as WarGames was based on a similar scenario of ordinary kids being thrown into a dangerous and improbable situation.)

NASA also approved the script, and — rather surprisingly — wasn’t put off by the fact that the whole plot revolved around a colossal screw-up on the launchpad.

The film focuses on a quintet of bickering camp attendees as they try out various training simulators, and learn — repeatedly and exhaustingly — the value of teamwork. It's all set to be a standard, barely postcard-worthy week away from home, until a totally implausible sequence of events sees them blasting off into orbit (with a single instructor to look after them) on the Space Shuttle Atlantis.

First, 12-year-old Max persuades management that he should be allowed into Big Kid camp, even though he's too young. Then he befriends a sentient, but worryingly glitchy, robot janitor named Jinx, who wants to make "Star Wars"-obsessed Max's dream of going into space a reality.

Jinx's scheme gets a convenient helping hand when NASA — for the benefit of the plot — allows the kids to sit in an actual shuttle during an actual engine test. That questionable decision gives Jinx all the window he needs to initiate a "thermal curtain failure" in one of the solid rocket boosters, leaving mission control no choice but to blast the kids into space.

Once the initial excitement of weightlessness has worn off, the kids realize the true extent of their predicament. While instructor Andie is a qualified astronaut who'd been patiently waiting for her first mission, it turns out that the unprepared Shuttle wasn't rigged for long-range radio communications. And — shock horror! — there isn't enough oxygen to get them to their re-entry window for landing at Edwards Air Force Base.

Suddenly, these rookie kids are forced into roles real-life astronauts spend years training for, going on spacewalks and landing state-of-the-art spacecraft as if it's as straightforward as playing a video game.

But as ridiculous as the premise is, it's kept grounded by an extremely likable ensemble, one of Hollywood's most impressive examples of pre-fame casting. While Lea Thompson (Kathryn) and Larry B Scott (Rudy) were familiar from "Back to the Future" and "Revenge of the Nerds", respectively, Tate Donovan (Kevin), Kelly Preston (Tish), and — perhaps, most notably — future Oscar-winner Joaquin Phoenix (then known as Leaf) were all playing their first major movie roles.

And even though they broadly correspond to the jock/brain/princess archetypes you'd find in a John Hughes movie, the movie makes an effort to defy expectations of the era. Tish, for example, is — despite her valley girl persona — super-smart and has an eidetic memory.

More experienced heads were provided by Kate Capshaw (fresh off "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom") as astronaut Andie Bergstrom, and Tom Skerritt ("Alien", "Top Gun") as her moonwalking husband, Zach. "Lost" fans should also look out for a young Terry O'Quinn (John Locke) in mission control.

Both the cast and director Harry Winer have spoken of the camaraderie on set, which was probably a good thing given the unexpected length of the production.

"After the first day of filming, we were already 10 days behind schedule," Thompson recalled in a 2012 interview with AV Club. "And it kind of kept on that way. It was supposed to be a three-month shoot, and it ended up taking six. We had t-shirts printed up that said, '"SpaceCamp": It’s Not Just a Movie, It’s a Career'. Oh, actually, instead of 'SpaceCamp', it actually said 'SpaceCramp!'"

The biggest name in the production, however, went unseen, as the legendary John Williams (who's always had a soft spot for kids' films; see also "Home Alone" and "Harry Potter") composed the soundtrack. While he resisted the temptation to add in a few bars from a galaxy far, far away during "SpaceCamp"'s many nods to "Star Wars", the score is unmistakably one of his.

"There's a reason why anyone who's a legend is a legend," Winer said in an interview with AL.com back in 2022.

"John Williams is the most gratifying and rewarding creative collaboration I've had in my entire career. He would analyze a story and consider when there was a need for silence. He understood your creative intentions and found a way in a very poetic medium of music to interpret and enhance your vision. It was literally remarkable."

"SpaceCamp" was all set for a prime summer release slot when disaster struck in January 1986. After the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded during take off, killing all seven crewmembers on board, a lighthearted movie about five kids accidentally heading into orbit suddenly seemed rather less appealing.

Many questioned whether it should have been released at all, but Fox decided to press ahead. Winer even wondered if the public might even find the film cathartic, "because after such a tragedy, people would need to cling to the hope the film represented. And needless to say, I was totally wrong," he said later. "They saw it as a source of jeopardy, of disappointment, of tragedy, rather than hope. No one went to see 'SpaceCamp', so then I felt like I had failed miserably."

Not helped by scathing reviews — "Would anyone like this movie?" asked legendary critic Roger Ebert. "Juvenile space nuts, maybe. But they'd be too sophisticated."

Forty years on, it remains a decent, if unspectacular, family movie, but "SpaceCamp" barely made back half of its production budget in theaters. It was the very definition of a Hollywood flop, but it still left its mark.

Interest in the film reportedly doubled attendance at the real-life Space Camp, and there’s anecdotal evidence that the movie encouraged kids to pursue careers in science. In more recent years, there's even been talk of a remake, though its current status is unknown.

"I've had a lot of people come up to me and say that they became physicists or inventors, because of how much they loved [Space Camp] and how much it inspired them," said Thompson. "That was really sweet and something I never really expected."

"SpaceCamp" is currently unavailable to stream and download from any major service (though there is a disappointingly low-res version on YouTube). There is also a Blu-ray release, but it's hard to find and expensive.

DC's new "Supergirl" may or may not turn out to be a classic of the comic-book genre. It may or may not be a smash hit in theaters. But whatever else happens when Kara Zor-El flies into the unpredictable headwinds of the worldwide box office, one thing the new movie has got 100% right is its promo poster.

Let's take a look at its components. The bright, primary-colored House of El logo in the background is so bold and unmistakable that there's no need to spell out that this is a Super movie. At the same time, having that famous shield spray-painted on a wall is elegant shorthand for "Looking for overgrown boy scout Clark Kent? Then move along".

Meanwhile, lead actor Milly Alcock's "don't care" pose — not to mention the overcoat, sunglasses, and retro headphones — screams attitude. And by the time you get to that "Truth. Justice. Whatever" tagline… well, you know pretty much everything you need to know about our latest trip to James Gunn's new-look DC Universe. The only thing it's missing is super-pooch Krypto.

This "Supergirl" promo stands out in multiplex foyers as every good poster should, yet feels like a rarity in modern Hollywood. Time and time again, one-sheet designs revert to a tried, tested, and tedious formula of Photoshopped (other design software is available) montage of famous faces from a movie. Many of them are presented in the same muddy monochrome — it's almost as if they've stepped out of a Zack Snyder movie — and you need a microscope to make out many of the details. Catching a theater-goer's eye seems a long way down anyone's list of priorities.

It hasn't always been this way, because the science fiction genre has been responsible for many of the best film posters ever made. In the 1950s, B-movies and even the occasional studio tentpole used their promos as unashamed generators of hype, commissioning artists to paint giant arachnids, giant monsters, and — in one notable 50-foot example — giant women. Embiggening the baddies was clearly one of the first things these artists were taught at poster school.

They also refused to be constrained by minor inconveniences like plot details. Posters for both "The Day the Earth Stood Still" (1951) and "Forbidden Planet" (1956) are built around angry robots carrying scantily clad women, even though neither film features any such scenes.

A decade or so later, space-set sci-fi movies like "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) and "Silent Running" (1972) were opting for a rather more subdued approach. Indeed, their hardware-heavy one-sheets looked more like the covers of hard SF novels than movie posters. "2001"'s more famous conceptual "The Ultimate Trip" star child promos weren't created until Stanley Kubrick's epic was given a 1970 re-release, as movie execs tried to capitalize on its growing, though unintended, reputation as a psychedelic counter-culture classic.

But it's arguably two insanely influential movies released within two years in the late-'70s that laid down the blueprint for what a sci-fi movie poster could and should do — "Star Wars" and "Alien".

At first glance, the early posters for "A New Hope" look like the character montages that have gone on to become the Hollywood norm. Look closer, however, and there's genuine artistry to their composition.

Although Tom Jung's famous "Style A" poster is a galaxy far, far away from screen accurate — what's going on with Luke's lightsaber and six-pack? — it effortlessly captures the all-action essence of the movie. Tom Chantrell's (arguably) even-more-iconic "Style C" design unites all the key players in a wonderfully kinetic collage of laser fire, lightsabers, and X-wings.

It's a sub-genre of poster art that the late Drew Struzan (who passed away in 2025) would subsequently go on to master. His legendary, hand-painted designs for the likes of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", the "Star Wars" Special Editions, the "Star Wars" prequels, "Blade Runner" and (yes, really) "The Muppet Movie" have laid down a marker for every draughtsperson who's followed. "I want the poster to look like an adventure," Struzan told SlashFilm in 2021.

In 1979, "Alien"'s famous "In space no one can hear you scream" design helped to popularize the conceptual one-sheet, as a single extraterrestrial egg hinted at the horrors Ridley Scott had in store.

Many of the most memorable posters of the '80s, '90s, and '00s opted for a single abstract image, whether it was ET and Elliott silhouetted against the Moon, an alien spacecraft hovering over New York for "Independence Day", or the minimalist, Happy Meal-friendly logos of "Ghostbusters" and "Jurassic Park".

Struzan's famous poster for John Carpenter's "The Thing" (the one with a faceless guy in a parka) was born out of necessity, the artist having been given little information beyond the fact that it was a loose remake of 1951's "The Thing from Another World". "[I had to] find a way of making nothing into something," Struzan later said of a design he reportedly created over a single night. It's fair to say he succeeded.

One thing all these designs have in common is that — as well as being great adverts for their respective movies — they're bona fide works of art. It's a tradition modern creators like the brilliant Matt Ferguson (and notable exceptions like "Alien Romulus" and "Arrival") are doing their best to keep alive — even though the lobby of a contemporary multiplex is less likely to be confused for an art gallery than it might once have been.

Even with the caveat that we tend to remember the great stuff and forget the duds, modern movie posters are rarely as good as they used to be. With montages often based around the contractual importance of respective stars, too many look like they've been created by committee rather than a single visionary artist — the design most executives, agents, and lawyers disliked least, rather than the one a few loved.

Can there be any other explanation for "Transformers" one-sheets that look like they've been passed through a filter of sludge, or an "Avengers: Age of Ultron" design so crowded that it looks like Marvel's answer to "Where's Waldo?".

Maybe Hollywood doesn't care anymore. Maybe their market research tells them that identikit montages get the best results at the box office, or that traditional one-sheets are small fry next to social media and trailers when it comes to getting bums on theater seats.

But if the measure of a good movie poster is something that you'd want to put in a frame and hang on your wall, the current generation is (mostly) lacking.

So, whether or not "Supergirl" flies, let's celebrate the film's stylish, memorable poster art as a wonderful break from the status quo.

Five years ago, an internet meme turned into a reality in "F9" when the Fast & Furious crew launched a car into space. Depending on your sense of humor and ability to suspend disbelief, it's either peak cinema or extreme tomfoolery, but it's clear that the only way this franchise will ever top this moment is by drag racing a velociraptor in a "Jurassic World" crossover.

The "F9" scene sees Tej Parker (played by Ludacris) and Roman Pearce (Tyrese Gibson) sit inside a rocket-strapped Pontiac Fiero that's launched from a plane and sent into orbit to destroy a satellite. They succeed in their mission, then find themselves hanging about in space and waving at the International Space Station crew, who wonder if they're Minions. No, they aren't, but they're (say this part in Dom Toretto's deep voice) family.

Now, the Fast & Furious franchise has never played by the rules of physics, or reality for that matter. It values entertainment above all, but it's still fun to explore where it gets certain parts right and wrong at times. So we asked three experts about this car-launched-into-space scene and how ridiculous it is. Surprisingly, it isn't as dumb as everybody might think it is.

The filmmakers flub the carrier plane, though. Remember the aircraft that takes the Fiero up into the sky? It's something of a Frankenstein's monster. "The cockpit that they show is crossed between a Boeing 767 and 777," David Cohen, the current dean of aeronautics at Lynn University and former colonel of the U.S. Air Force, tells Space. "However, the aircraft from the external shot looks a little like a military C-17 – except that it has four engines. The C-17 was actually used as the basis for the transport aircraft in the 'Avengers' movies."

According to Cohen, another major issue in this sequence is how the Fiero sits on top of the carrier aircraft before it's dispatched. "Even in a military aircraft that's carrying weapons and missiles, there's a tremendous amount of time that is spent on both the carriage and the release of that weapon from the aircraft, including multiple cameras and a lot of testing," he says.

"So there's never something as simple as, 'Oh, we're just going to strap this on and see how it goes.'" When the Fiero is released, it's far too close to hitting the tail of the plane. In other words, it would have needed to be launched in another manner.

Now, there is a precedent of air-launch-to-orbit (ALTO) in the real world, such as the Northrop Grumman Pegasus. However, Bryan Schmidt, assistant professor of mechanical and aerospace engineering at Case Western Reserve University, thinks the "F9" filmmakers took direct influence from the first spaceflight of Virgin Galactic's SpaceShipTwo, which would coincide with the film's production timeline.

"Burt Rutan and Richard Branson formed a company called Virgin Galactic, and if you remember, they built a space plane for essentially space tourism," Schmidt says.

"The SpaceShipTwo could fly six people in this little rocketship that would get airdropped from a plane. Their first flight into space was in 2018, and this movie came out in 2021, so my guess is that the filmmakers were actually drawing a lot of inspiration from that system where the space plane would get carried up by an airplane, then the airplane would drop it around 40,000 feet, and the rockets would ignite and take it up to space."

As Schmidt explains, the SpaceShipTwo dropped at around 40,000 feet while the vehicle in "F9" is at 50,000 feet, but it's still a similar-enough concept. "The densest part of the atmosphere is the bottom," Schmidt says.

"By using an airplane to get you up, you're dramatically reducing the amount of work that the rockets on the spacecraft have to do. So you can make your engine and your spacecraft a lot smaller and still be able to attain a pretty high altitude. If you look at SpaceShipTwo, its rocket engine is pretty small – the engine itself is about the size of a person. The other interesting thing is that if you look in the movie, there's a tank of nitrous oxide in the car. In the SpaceShipTwo, the oxidizer that they used for their rocket fuel was nitrous oxide."

Ashmeet Singh, assistant professor of physics at the Indian Institute of Technology Delhi, sees the same logic in the ALTO but thinks the Fiero would struggle to reach its ultimate destination. "To stay in orbit you have to be moving sideways at about 7.8 kilometres per second, and thanks to Newton's Third Law of action equals minus reaction, rockets burn and eject fuel to get an opposite directed thrust," he says. "To get to those fantastic speeds, real rockets are almost entirely propellant by weight. A couple of boosters bolted to a car can't carry anything close to that."

There's also the question of the Fiero itself, and if it would last the entire journey. According to Earl (Jason Tobin) in "F9", the modified car has a ceramic polymer coating. While spacecraft use ceramic coating for heat protection, one wonders how thorough the testing for Tej and Roman's expedition really was. A regular Fiero simply wouldn't cut it, as Singh explains. "On the way up, the car wouldn't survive the heat from air resistance and the compression of the air, as the car rams into air molecules faster than it can move out of the way, which makes it heat past 1000°C. And a fibreglass body with ordinary glass has no heat shield and no structure for the violent shaking."

Cohen, Schmidt, and Singh all agree on how ridiculous it is that Roman uses the Fiero's steering wheel at all. "The steering wheel is pure theatrics: in a vacuum, there's no air over a wing and no road under a tyre, nothing to push against, so turning it does exactly nothing," Singh says. "Real spacecraft pivot by firing little thrusters, not by steering." Schmidt jokes that maybe it's something for Roman to hold onto while on the way up."*

*The car is shown to have tiny thrusters, so maybe they're hooked up to the wheel? We'll give them the benefit of the doubt.

All three experts also highlight that the scuba-like gear that Tej and Roman wear is grounded in some real-world logic. "The very first time human beings went above Earth into an area where there wasn't enough breathable air, Wiley Post was one of the first pioneers doing this in the 1930s," Cohen says.

"Post had effectively what was a scuba suit at the time to handle the pressure and keep the air in the suit, and allowed him to breathe. So, the concept is not foreign to aviation." What is funny to Cohen is how Tej uses duct tape to keep his suit together.

As Schmidt and Singh add, though, these suits might not suffice depending on the length of the journey and the pressure in space, differing from underwater situations. Apart from the actual suits protecting the characters, you also need to consider the effect of G-force on Tej and Roman. Both look relatively fit and in good shape, but are they astronaut-fit for this undertaking?

"As a pilot and astronaut, there's physiology you have to know about and ways you can clench muscles and attempt to fight some of the forces you experience," Cohen says.

"G-loss of consciousness is possible, and it happens with pilots in high-performance aircraft occasionally. They'll pull so many Gs that the force will take the blood out of their head down to their feet, and they lose consciousness. Ultimately, you do come back, but the goal is not to have that happen. It does not appear that there's any accountability for G-forces in 'F9', at least in the scene where the car is departing the aircraft."

Unquestionably, "F9" is pure entertainment, so liberties are taken to sell an outrageous story where everybody behaves and acts like an invincible superhero. Having said that, it's good to see that the filmmakers and screenwriters actually attempted to bring an iota of realism to the film.

"Another powerful moment the scene gets right isn't the hardware or the science, it's possibly the awe on Tej and Roman's faces when they see Earth reflected in their visors," Singh explains. "Chris Hadfield, the Canadian astronaut who actually commanded the Space Station, even admitted that feeling to be true to the real thing."

To infinity and beyond... for family.

"F9" is available to stream on Prime Video.

Sony Pictures Television and Amazon MGM Studios' brash experimental superhero series, "Spider-Noir," is a refreshing treat that revitalizes the fading genre with a cool film noir twist.

Showcasing the "Spider-Man Noir" comics character seen in "Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse", it stars Nicholas Cage as a 1930s New York City private detective named Ben Reilly who moonlights as the nocturnal avenger The Spider.

Juilliard-educated composers Kris Bowers ("The Wild Robot," "Secret Invasion") and Michael Dean Parsons ("Light & Magic," "Bridgerton") have created a magnificent sweeping score with roots in old-school crime thrillers, Hollywood Golden Age jazz, and a variety of intriguing electronic instruments not traditionally used in a classical score of this nature. We caught up with the musical pair to hear more about their influences for this mesmerizing Spider-Noir soundtrack.

"The first thing we talked about when we were watching the picture-locked season was how it was important that this score was rooted both in the noir and superhero space but also be wholly unique in its own thing," Bowers tells Space.

"We created a playlist of all our favorite noir scores from 'Chinatown' to 'Double Indemnity' to 'Vertigo' and remind ourselves about all the things we love about that music, then pretty quickly try to forget it so we didn't lean too much in that," explains Bowers.

"Superhero music, I feel like, has been in our DNA for the last 20 years or so. For us, it was looking at how in the noir space, you had these iconic, memorable melodies and themes and these things that are tracking characters across the arcs of their stories. Then with the superhero side of things, it was about making it feel modern and edgy and have a lot of sounds you wouldn’t expect in your typical noir score."

From the beginning, Bowers and Parsons instinctively knew "Spider-Noir's" atmospheric music would be thematically driven, but they also didn’t want it to be an homage washing over the whole series.

"We wanted it to feel customized and coming out of these individual characters and the unique story that was being told," Parsons adds. "One of the first things we asked Oren was, since the show takes place in New York, what does New York mean to you?"

"We were expecting a noir-inspired answer, like about using trumpets and saxophones," says Parsons. "Instead, he said New York is 'Nineties electric punk guitar.' As we talked to him more, there was something that really fit naturally about bringing in a modern guitar sound into this palette that made us realize this is 50% superhero and 50% noir, but 100% totally new."

One enchanting component of this score’s distinctiveness, beyond the sweeping symphonic interludes, is the inclusion of some unconventional instruments to layer into the moody tracks.

"The theremin was one of our early discoveries that was kind of a marriage between the electronic contemporary and also this noir world," notes Parsons. "We were researching the early electronic instruments that could have plausibly been around or starting to be popularized in that era, so we gravitated towards the theremin not only for that reason, but because Ben's theme begins with this big soaring octave leap.

"So we thought, what if we take the theremin and have it play the octave leap as a signature for Ben. Anytime he's doing a day in the life detective work, or anytime we need to point out him doing something heroic, we're able to use that theremin, which has been run through distortion pedals and other things, to call it out."

Giving the composers enough confidence to be daring provided the ideal creative environment to conjure up what we believe is an instant classic that gets even better each time it's heard.

"It's really just a credit to how generous our collaborators were in Oren, the showrunner, and the rest of the team," says Bowers. "It was the thing where every time we shared something, oftentimes the only notes we got back would be to make it even weirder or more different or add some other sound. That's important, especially when you're on a project, and you don't have much time, and you're dealing with one of the most important pieces of IP in the world with Spider-Man.

"Often, you can get a lot of stress and anxiety and tightness in terms of not wanting to try things out. I feel like we were encouraged to fail in the best way possible, where we never felt any idea was too crazy for this team. It was an amazing collaborative process with them."

The show hails from executive producer Oren Uziel ('Mortal Kombat,' 'The Lost City'), and fans are applauding its stylish take on the multiverse, which can be enjoyed in either True-Hue Full Color or Authentic Black & White.

"Spider-Noir" is now streaming all 8 episodes on Prime Video.