“Frequently thought-provoking glimpse into the inner architecture of the human mind.”

There’s a seemingly universal experience where we look to the night sky and suddenly realize our immense insignificance, with our existence (already miraculous as it is) being nothing more than a speck in something enormous and truly impossible to understand. For as long as we’ve been sentient, we’ve been trying to comprehend the scope of the universe, even before we were aware of what lay beyond our own planet; we don’t seem any closer to understanding it now than in the past. This hasn’t stopped science from seeking answers to impossible questions, and every new discovery, even when minor, provides slightly more nuance to the discussion. For the characters in My Notes on Mars, the most recent directorial outing by the incredibly talented Lili Horvát, the very idea of existence seems to be an impossible burden to handle, but one that they attempt to navigate as best they can. The film revolves around Margot, an astronomer and researcher, who has recently moved with her husband Sam to a remote part of Hungary, his ancestral land. Margot goes missing during a hike and is presumed dead, but suddenly reappears at her own funeral, which causes immediate embarrassment and confusion to those mourning her. However, Sam notices her behaviour is quite strange, especially the feverish search for a notebook in which she wrote down observations from her research into Mars (her life’s greatest achievement), which she suddenly seems to be intent on destroying. As yet another well-crafted character study by one of the most exciting filmmakers working today (and also her first English-language film), My Notes on Mars is a fascinating blend of science fiction and psychological drama, weaving different ideas together to create a compelling and frequently thought-provoking glimpse into the inner architecture of the human mind.

My Notes on Mars dares to make a provocative point: we are an inherently curious species, but some kinds of knowledge can become an unbearable burden to possess, which is what prevents us from finding the answers to certain questions. Margot in this film is someone who has managed to find information through her research that could change the way we view the universe, but her refusal to share it – even going so far as to resign from her academic position and retreat to a remote place in order not to be found – leads her to make some questionable decisions, all to conceal what she knows. This sharply contrasts with the other main aspect of the story, which is the relationship she has with her husband. He tries to be supportive, but his patience begins to erode as a result of her erratic behaviour, which only compounds after her disappearance and re-emergence. There are two key thematic strands that persist throughout this film, and the manner in which Horvát ties them together is fascinating, using them to create a thorough portrait of humanity through the lens of two people attempting to navigate a world that neither of them seems able to fully comprehend. The foundation of My Notes on Mars forms a psychological character study about a declining marriage – when we meet Margot and Sam, their day-to-day routine is defined by underlying tensions, which only resolve once Margot goes missing. It allows Sam to sit in the grief of losing his wife, while also being able to move on with his life, only for her to return under mysterious circumstances. From this, the film becomes a fascinating deconstruction of their relationship, where the tensions aren’t suddenly extinguished, but rather transferred into an entirely different form. Throughout the story, the direct comments not only on marital strife, but also on subjects like mental health and identity, are woven together to become a deeply compelling existential odyssey that manages to say so much without ever becoming too heavy-handed.

At the heart of My Notes on Mars are two very strong performances. Many viewers will recognize Mackenzie Davis and Rupert Friend from their years of great work across film and television, and they deliver stellar performances as the couple who drive this story. Davis has the challenge of playing a woman who is teetering dangerously close to the edge of a complete breakdown, but who holds it together purely for the sake of seeking out a more ordinary, placid life. It’s impressive work based on how much Davis is asked to run the emotional gamut, especially when we contrast her performance before the disappearance of the character, where she is stoic and reserved, to what comes after that key event, when she grows more idiosyncratic and offbeat, all part of the dramatic arc her character takes. Davis seeks out the truth beneath the surface of this otherwise impenetrable character, anchoring the story and bringing many of its peculiar aspects to life on screen. Friend is similarly strong, although he has the task of playing a character who has to remain more stable, while also handling his own internal quandaries. Sam is watching his wife slowly slip into what he believes initially to be a kind of psychosis, caused by her declining mental health, but he gradually discovers there’s something much deeper and more sinister going on. Davis and Friend play off each other well, finding the right balance in the tension that exists between husband and wife, as well as the undercurrent of genuine love for one another, which is ultimately what gives this film a more satisfying conclusion.

While it may be a character study, there is more that anchors My Notes on Mars than just the performances, which are exceptional in their own right, but only one part of a sprawling existential epic. As was the case with her previous two directorial outings, Horvát is motivated to investigate the innermost recesses of the human mind, which manifests in simple and evocative psychological dramas that are as much about the concrete themes as they are the elusive philosophical ideas embedded at the heart of her stories. What binds them together is the manner in which the director evokes certain ideas, which comes through in subtle ways. The focus is on establishing a particular mood, with atmosphere driving much of this story – there are several stretches with very little dialogue, and where the images communicate meaning more effectively than the words we hear. Considering the film revolves around a character who grows steadily more uncomfortable with living in a universe she seeks to understand but knows she’ll never be able to fully comprehend, the film does remarkably well in evoking an inescapable tension that draws the viewer in and helps us see the world through Margot’s increasingly jaded perspective. My Notes on Mars is not a film that seems interested in providing answers to its central questions, allowing the mystery to be the priority until the final climactic moments (while still remaining opaque), but offers some clarity on the intentions of this story. It all creates a distinct sensation of inescapable dread that comes from realising that our presence is beyond insignificant if we take the entirety of the universe into account. For a film to be this rich in existential commentary, while also providing a unique form of optimism (one that doesn’t dismiss the inherent nihilism of knowing how miniscule we are in the observable universe) is a major credit to Horvát as an artist and storyteller.

For most of the film, My Notes on Mars seems to luxuriate in ambiguity, constantly orbiting around the central enigma without offering the answers that we seek. However, there comes a point in the third act when everything falls into place, and not only do we understand the core mystery that drives this film, but we are also able to comprehend the deeper message lingering beneath the surface. It’s a revelatory moment in a film that consists of some fascinating observations, each one an integral piece of a large puzzle that Horvát methodically builds, culminating in a quietly devastating portrait of the human condition. The director joins a long lineage of artists who spent their time pondering the nature of the universe, and while her efforts may ultimately return the same results as those who came before her, the observations she makes along the way are very impressive. They feel simultaneously intimate and sprawling, as if she has managed to evoke a certain set of existential quandaries that defy categorisation and are universally experienced, burdened with the forbidden knowledge that comes with seeking out answers to how the universe truly functions. Condensing millennia of existential philosophy into a single narrative, one that revolves around someone who has an almost animalistic desire to run away from reality in an effort to shed the unbearable weight of existence, is a compelling choice and contributes to the many layers that make up this film. Starting as an intimate glimpse into the human mind (a clear allegory for mental health, marital challenges and the obstacles that come when one tries to make sense of a chaotic world), My Notes on Mars transitions into a two-hander about a couple trying to maintain their grasp on reality, performed brilliantly by a pair of gifted actors. They work together with Horvát to allow the ambiguity of this story to fester, becoming uncomfortable and profoundly revelatory, using potent emotions and exceptional filmmaking to form this hauntingly beautiful psychological drama that dares to ask some of life’s most impossible questions.