n an exploratory mission, the five-member crew of the Palomino detects a cosmic terror--an ominous black hole sucking dry its corner of the universe. When they edge closer to the black hole, they discover a derelict ship lying just outside it, apparently impervious to the hole's inexorable gravity. They pass by for a quick look-see, but they must remain longer: the black hole has damaged the Palomino. To effect repairs, they dock and take advantage of the mysterious pocket of zero-g surrounding the derelict.
They identify the derelict as the Cygnus, another exploratory vessel that disappeared 20 years ago. They board the vast ship and are met by uncommunicative, imposing robots, who lead them further into the vessel's cavernous bulk.
At the ship's heart they find the sole remaining crew member, Dr. Reinhart, who informs the team that the Cygnus's crew abandoned the ship after it sustained heavy damage. He remained, expecting death, but instead was able to solder the ship back together. He then had the solitude of 20 years to build his robots and refine his work.
The Palomino crew is just in time to witness history. Dr. Reinhart intends to travel through the black hole to whatever lies on the other side. The team agrees to assist, and begins to make repairs on the Palomino. However, the brilliant Reinhart seems to be holding something back, and Palomino's crew members become disquieted. Disquiet erupts into distrust when it is discovered that the crew members of the Cygnus are not as dead as Reinhart made them out to be...
If you thought Mickey Mouse was weird...
The Black Hole is a strange little film, with spare, 2001: A Space Odyssey yearnings and compulsive, formulaic Disney instincts. The degree to which the profoundly comic revolves around the truly dramatic is not always intentional, although the film does have a certain self-awareness throughout. The special effects and quasi-Bauhaus sets have aged well, and they effectively girder the austere and forbidding mood of the film.
Part of the film's strength is its ability to sustain the subtle flavor of various subcultures: the slightly claustrophobic environs of the Palomino; the often vicious world of the robots, who maintain admirable vendettas and grudges; the Nemo-esque sanctuaries of Reinhart, a culture unto himself. The world of the robots is especially weird. This small enclave is not just a foil for the human goings-on, or comic relief. It is complex and intriguing, and the machine drama is more interesting than its human counterpart.
The cast is also a strange affair, but even where the acting is bad or where the casting seems incompatible with the film itself, the whole thing manages to hold its own, quite a feat for such a schizophrenic, uneven film. Beyond redemption, though, are the climactic action scenes, which devolve into a silly, Irwin Allen-ish mess, complete with a score that is so out of place it sounds dubbed. The film's most grievous sin is its staggering failure to adequately investigate the ramifications of the grisly robot world Reinhart has created. Sadly, the film abandons these more provocative questions in favor of the final shoot-em-up scenes.
