The film's opening was merely a prelude, yet it instantly seized the hearts of every viewer.
Martin had pulled out all the stops to craft that breathtaking 12-minute long take, its raw realism making the audience hold their breath, captivated by the scene unfolding before them.
Through their 3D glasses, they felt as though they were adrift in the cosmos, surrounded by nothing but vast, endless darkness.
As the lens glided forward, the blue planet before them grew smaller, swallowed by an ever-deepening inky void, giving the audience the sensation of drifting farther and farther from Earth.
Then, the camera spun again, settling on the Hubble telescope.
Compared to the immense telescope, the handful of astronauts working on it seemed impossibly small.
The universe was utterly silent, yet so profoundly dark.
Kevin Thomas finally understood where the "fear" those theater chain executives had spoken of came from—it stemmed from a primal, deep-seated human dread of confinement, a chill that ran through the bones.
Thankfully, the quiet scene eventually came to an end.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"This is Houston, stand by…"
Through the comms in their spacesuits, mission control's orders crackled, interwoven with the chatty, rambling voice of astronaut Matt Kowalski.
Jessica's character, Dr. Ryan Stone, was rebooting a communication module, while another astronaut, Sheriff, swapped out a battery unit. Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly…
The massive Hubble telescope floated steadily in space, and the astronauts could see the comforting blue glow of their home planet, set against the vast expanse of the universe behind it.
Such beauty wasn't something everyone had the chance to witness.
And the audience, through the lens, felt as though they were seeing it with their own eyes.
Bale was stunned. How the hell did they pull off a shot like this?
It was so lifelike, so vivid it sparked a visceral fear in him, as if he were truly floating in the void of space.
Was this the cutting-edge technique Nolan had been raving about?
The audience, glued to the massive screen through their 3D glasses, didn't dare blink, terrified of missing even a single detail of this rare, wondrous spectacle—not just the viewers, but the critics, directors, and actors in attendance as well.
"This is truly a miraculous scene!" Kevin Thomas felt a thought take root. "At this moment, the most beautiful shot in cinematic history was born."
Bale: "Goddamn, it's just too beautiful, too damn beautiful—but terrifying at the same time! This one shot alone could cement this film in the history books."
He suddenly found himself a little jealous of Leonardo.
To be part of a film destined to leave its mark on history—not just acting in it, but even if he had to pay his own way, Bale would've jumped at the chance to join.
And Leonardo, the object of his envy, was equally swept up in unparalleled awe.
As for Jessica Alba, the film's leading lady, her emotions churned even more fiercely. Though she was already a top-tier star with countless blockbuster films under her belt, this movie was different. It gave her not just fame or wealth, but an immense sense of accomplishment.
"It's so beautiful," George Lucas mused, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "To think that film technology has reached this level. If I'd had access to techniques like this when shooting Star Wars, the impact would've been even more staggering."
The audience's perspective, carried by the lens, felt as though they were immersed in the vast, silent universe.
The first human to walk in space, cosmonaut Leon Knopf, once said, "I was surrounded by stars, yet I felt no confinement. I'll never forget how that moment felt."
And now, the audience before the giant screen shared that same sensation.
The lens zoomed in, returning to the Hubble telescope.
The three astronauts bantered with mission control, working at a steady, unhurried pace.
The atmosphere felt relaxed, almost serene.
But that peace didn't last long.
Disaster struck.
Russia had launched a missile to destroy one of their own defunct spy satellites, and the resulting debris hurtled toward the Explorer shuttle and the Hubble telescope.
It was a visually stunning, heart-pounding sequence.
Wearing their 3D glasses, the audience watched as shards of debris streaked past, instinctively ducking and weaving. The entire theater swayed in unison—right, then left—in a scene so comical it could've been choreographed.
Even the big-name directors in the front row couldn't maintain their dignified composure, swaying with the hyper-realistic visuals.
Steven Spielberg let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by the experience.
Scattered laughter rippled through the theater as others joined in.
The interactive sensation of the film was undeniably fun.
But soon, the laughter died.
The satellite debris triggered a chain reaction, smashing into more satellites, creating even more fragments.
As the music grew tense and urgent, the audience watched the debris swarm toward the Hubble telescope and the Explorer shuttle.
Worse still, as each satellite was destroyed, the astronauts' communications with ground control became increasingly spotty.
The lens began to shift rapidly, the earlier slow, serene long take replaced by a frantic, perilous urgency that engulfed everyone.
Bale's mouth went dry, his adrenaline surging. He'd seen countless films, but it had been ages since one had drawn him in so completely.
"Martin visual effects in this film are just too damn good!"
Bale even felt the movie didn't need a script. If it could sustain this hyper-realistic visual impact throughout, that alone would keep audiences glued to their seats.
After all, who isn't curious about the mysterious, profound depths of the universe?
Of course, that was impossible.
Two waves of satellite debris battered the audience, leaving them dazed, as if they themselves had endured a catastrophic ordeal, a primal sense of surviving disaster welling up from deep within.
"This film's immersion is just too intense!" Spielberg muttered.
Nolan, sitting nearby, nodded, suddenly feeling that his own Interstellar paled in comparison.
The debris obliterated the Hubble telescope and the Explorer shuttle.
Aside from Ryan Stone and Matt Kowalski, who were outside the spacecraft, every other astronaut perished.
Matt Kowalski and Ryan Stone searched for their fallen colleagues' bodies before making their way to the International Space Station, hoping to use the Russian Soyuz capsule to escape.
But misfortune struck again. As they neared the station, they were caught in a collision with its solar panels, which had gone out of control. They were tethered to the station only by a single rope wrapped around Ryan Stone's leg.
The audience's hearts were yanked tight once more.
Then, Matt Kowalski made the ultimate sacrifice, releasing his tether to ensure Ryan Stone's survival.
As Matt Kowalski drifted slowly into the depths of space on the screen, countless viewers wept.
Humanity, it seems, will always be moved by selflessness.
Even Leonardo was touched by his own performance.
"Goddamn, I—no, Matt—is just too damn heroic!"