Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in a movie or literary work.

Time As a Destructive Force

Interstellar treats time not as a fixed backdrop, but as a volatile, manipulable force—something that can be bent, stretched, and weaponized. Rather than simply passing, time in the film actively shapes the characters' lives, distorting relationships, fracturing families, and turning small choices into irreversible consequences. The clearest instance of this occurs when Cooper, Brand, and Doyle land on Miller’s planet. Due to the planet’s extreme proximity to the black hole Gargantua, Romilly calculates that every hour on the surface equals seven years on Earth. What was meant to be a brief excursion becomes a disaster, and the crew ends up spending far longer than planned. When they return to the Endurance, Romilly has spent 23 years alone, and Cooper finds that he’s missed the birth—and death—of Tom’s first child. Murph, now an adult, has become embittered, convinced that her father abandoned her. In framing time as relative rather than constant, the film draws a direct line between physical separation and emotional disconnection. Cooper’s choice to leave Earth is heroic in its intent but devastating in its cost. Interstellar doesn’t present this as a mistake, nor does it frame it as a triumphant success. Instead, it’s a deeply human dilemma—one where saving the future comes at the expense of the present. 

Murph’s refusal to speak to her father further reflects this emotional rupture. Even after she joins NASA and works alongside Professor Brand, she struggles to forgive the years Cooper missed. Meanwhile, Cooper is forced to watch his children grow up through delayed video transmissions, powerless to bridge the distance between them. In one message, Murph tells him she’s now the same age he was when he left—a cruel reminder of how time has slipped through their hands. The more Cooper tries to fix what’s broken, the longer he remains absent. Where most films treat time as an inevitable backdrop to human experience, Interstellar reimagines it as a barrier—an invisible, but nearly insurmountable force. In the end, it’s not just physics that creates distance between people, but the emotional weight of time lost. 

Ensuring Survival Through Sacrifice vs Selfishness 

Interstellar explores the tension between personal and collective survival, ultimately framing sacrifice as the moral core of its narrative. As Earth teeters on the edge of collapse—its crops decimated by blight, its skies darkened by dust storms, and its institutions hollowed out—humanity is left with two options: leave, or perish slowly. Each character must decide how much they are willing to give up in the name of a future they may never see. Some sacrifices are noble: Cooper gives up his life with his children to pilot the Endurance mission, knowing he may never return. Amelia Brand, too, sacrifices deeply—risking her life to retrieve valuable data on Miller’s planet and later continuing on alone to establish a colony on Edmunds’ planet, despite losing the man she loved and being unaware that anyone will ever join her. Others, like Dr. Mann, make choices that are more self-serving, cloaked in the language of survival but rooted in fear. Every step toward saving humanity exacts a toll—emotional, physical, and moral. Christopher Nolan doesn’t portray survival as purely heroic or redemptive; rather, he presents it as a series of agonizing decisions that demand the loss of comfort, certainty, and connection. Survival, in Interstellar, is not the absence of sacrifice—it’s the result of it. 

Dr. Mann exemplifies the danger of placing personal survival above the collective good. In a desperate bid to save himself, he falsifies data about his planet’s habitability to lure the Endurance crew, endangering the mission from the moment they arrive. His deception spirals into sabotage: he tries to conceal the truth, strands Cooper, Brand, and TARS on the planet’s surface, and ultimately causes a catastrophic docking failure that kills him and nearly destroys the Endurance. In stark contrast, Cooper’s choice to sacrifice himself by detaching from the Endurance and plunging into the black hole is portrayed as an act of heroism. He knows that jettisoning himself and TARS is the only way to give Brand a chance to reach Edmunds’ planet, and he accepts that the odds of survival are slim. There’s only a faint hope that some useful data might be transmitted from within Gargantua, but Cooper lets go of any guarantee of return. Interstellar consistently reinforces this idea: meaningful progress toward saving humanity depends on choosing selflessness over self-preservation. In this world, survival isn’t achieved through individual triumph—it’s earned through sacrifice. 

Trust Despite Uncertainty 

Interstellar repeatedly challenges its audience to consider who—and what—can truly be trusted. Nowhere is this more evident than in the revelation that the mission to save humanity is built, in part, on a lie. Professor Brand assures NASA and the Endurance crew that Plan A—a solution to the gravitational equation that would allow Earth's population to evacuate—remains within reach. In truth, he has already concluded that it’s impossible with their current understanding of gravity. Still, he sends the astronauts, including his own daughter, into space. He believes that Plan B—the colonization of a distant world using a “population bomb” of fertilized embryos—is humanity’s only real hope, but also assumes that no one would commit to such a mission without believing their loved ones could be saved. This single deception shapes Murph’s life and work. When she uncovers the truth, her fury goes beyond scientific betrayal: she feels personally misled by both Professor Brand and her father. She’s forced to ask whether Cooper knew all along that he would never return—and whether he chose humanity over his own children. 

Trust also erodes within the Endurance crew itself. Cooper and Brand clash over strategy, particularly when Brand advocates for exploring Edmunds’ planet instead of Dr. Mann’s. Her personal connection to Edmunds leads Cooper to question her objectivity, though her instincts are ultimately right. The true betrayal comes from Dr. Mann, who fakes planetary data in a desperate bid for rescue. His deceit nearly destroys the Endurance and endangers every life on board. These moments underscore a recurring idea: in the world of Interstellar, trust is both fragile and essential, and collective and individual survival depends on placing trust in others, even when certainty is impossible.