It's the future, and the sun is dying. Earth has sent the spaceship "Icarus II" into the heavens with a bomb attached the size of Manhattan. The objective is to unload the weapon into the scorching heart of the sun and restart the solar factory again. Onboard this ship is a bevy of scientists and astronauts (including Cillian Murphy, Rose Byrne, Michelle Yeoh, and Chris Evans) committed to carrying out this massive effort to preserve humanity. However, once the now derelict "Icarus I" is located near the surface, decisions are made and actions taken that could prevent the completion of this critical mission.

What I embraced so much about "Sunshine" was its awe of space voyage. Director Boyle and screenwriting partner Alex Garland have done their homework in the sci-fi field with this picture, paying homage to the great pastoral starfields and visual eloquence of "2001" and the mind-shredding claustrophobia of "Alien." It's a grab bag of many film classics, yet it remains a hauntingly original creation soaked in its own creative and spiritual juices. It's a challenging picture perhaps best suited for audiences who enjoy the stillness and psychological grip of space travel; a sci-fi creation leaning more toward science than fiction. At least for about 80 minutes.

Boyle pays careful attention to the fury of sun and the luminosity that comes with such a massive, glowing center of power. For some onboard the "Icarus II" the sun is a creation to be in awe of. For others, it's one to fear and respect. "Sunshine" uses the spectacular unpredictability of nature and space as a backdrop for many of the film's fingernail-chewing suspense sequences, while also creating a punishing, discomforting reality with the sun's slow death. While primarily an examination of twitchy space crew mentality during unspeakable conflict, "Sunshine" leaves plenty of breathing room for tension, as the ship encounters innumerable problems on the way to its destiny.

Boyle is a crackerjack visual stylist, and "Sunshine" is probably his finest work, enjoying the solemn beauty of the "Icarus II" as it slowly pushes through the universe. This is a very dark picture, which is brilliantly contrasted with the overwhelming, lethal brightness of the sun and surrounding orbit. Boyle dances between the lighting schemes, using the shadow for purposes of terror, and utilizing the light to remind the audience that no matter the concern, there is a definitive end point to this mission worthy of wonder and fear. Boyle isn't Kubrick, but he treats the haunting uncertainty of space in much the same manner.

The third act of the film steals "Sunshine" away from mystery to a place far more familiar. An unexpected crew member is suddenly accounted for on the ship, leading to a series of events that hold the faint stank of "Event Horizon." It pulls "Sunshine" away from hopes that Boyle will challenge himself even further with a complicated, yet neutral conclusion. I wasn't taken out of the conflict with this slippery switch of direction, but I certainly express some disappointment that Boyle and Garland surrendered their inventive film to the labor of third-act "twist," instead of having the bravery to allow "Sunshine" to end as gracefully as it began.