Are we there yet?
Everyone who’s ever taken kids on a road trip has heard that before. Parents everywhere are familiar with the whining and crying, the queries to stop for ice cream, the pleas to get to a bathroom.
And then, after what seems like hours, you’re able to pull out of the driveway and begin your trip in earnest.
Now, imagine a “road trip” to Mars—minus not just the roads, but even the precedent. It’s a 33.9-million-mile journey to the Red Planet, with nary a gas station or fast-food joint along the way. The only vehicle that can get you there is an extraordinarily huge, inconceivably expensive craft powered by roughly 5 bazillion tons of highly explosive rocket fuel. Why, just building the thing and plotting the course took thousands of people years to do.
None of that prep and planning guarantees a successful trip, either. And if something goes awry on this trek into space, the upshot is far worse than spending an extra night in the roadside Roach-a-Rama.
And even if everything goes just right—if the rocket goes up without a hitch—you’ve got the journey itself to contend with, spending another few years looking at the same four faces day after day after day.
Are we there yet? When it comes to Mars, maybe the real question is, Why leave at all?
Everyone in The First asks that question, whether to go at all, and sometimes they ask it again and again. The query itself holds a special poignancy, given that the first manned trip to Mars ended in disaster mere moments after it began.
Tom Hagerty was supposed to be on that original craft. And when Tom watched the spaceship explode on television, he felt more than the shock that any of us would: He saw his friends—people he picked to sit in those ill-fated seats—die.
Now he’s been tasked with leading a new mission to Mars, even though he’s got plenty of worries right here on earth, too. His daughter, a former drug addict, is now back home, struggling to stay clean. And he’d like to do whatever he can to help her stay that way.
For Laz Ingram, CEO of the aerospace company Vista, the failed launch was equally horrific. After all, it was her rocket that exploded, her craft that failed. For eight years, Vista’s best and brightest worked in partnership with NASA to make the project a reality. When it ended in catastrophe, Laz wondered whether she could even go on, much less try to go to space again. But now, she feels that such a mission is not only possible, but critical. And somehow, Laz must convince understandably wary politicians and investors to embrace her vision once more.
And then we come to the astronauts themselves—men and women with families and futures of their own. They, along with the rest of the world, watched as their friends died on that ill-fated launch pad. They, better than anyone, know the risks involved with space travel. But they each accept those risks.
Why leave at all? Each man and woman involved with this mission might answer that question differently. But each believes that whatever the risks of failure are, it’s better than the guaranteed failure of staying put.
Slate says that The First is “more interested in bureaucracy than in intergalactic travel,” and that feels about right. This isn’t about fighting H.G. Welles’ War of the Worlds Martians or even farming potatoes, à la The Martian. In some ways, it’s not about Mars at all, but rather, just how difficult it is to get there.
But that allows the show to provide thrills of a different sort: As they say, getting there is half the fun.
The First is, in several ways, a surprisingly grounded sci-fi show. It delights in engineering problems; closed-door budgetary meetings; and the small, personal dramas that take place in each and every home. It feels both intellectual and inspirational: The First doesn’t provide us with villains, just a bunch of well-meaning people pursuing what they feel is right. And most of them embrace a common, literally out-of-this-world goal.
For many viewers, though, The First may still have a hard time clearing orbit.
The show does not feel particularly gratuitous. Its realistic, bureaucratic conceit eliminates any need for martial arts fight scenes or shootouts. And while romance is in the offing for some characters, The First doesn’t dally in the bedroom, at least early on in the series.
But Hulu slapped The First with a TV-MA rating for a reason, and that reason seems to be its language. F-words aren’t uncommon here. Behind-the-door, off-the mic conversations can turn incredibly crass, even juvenile. Drug, tobacco and alcohol use can be issues, as well.
Anchored by Oscar-winning actor Sean Penn and Designated Survivor’s excellent Natascha McElhone, The First boasts some first-rate performances. And it’s nice that Hulu took the time to craft such a strong, smart show. But it is too bad that they didn’t take the extra step to ensure that more folks could see it.
The first manned mission to Mars—a joint effort between NASA and the private company Vista—ends in tragedy, and those on the ground must pick up the pieces. Tom Hagerty, who had been slated to lead the mission, races to mission control to console families and to do what he can in the aftermath. Engineers and scientists begin puzzling through what went wrong. And Laz Ingram, CEO of Vista, tries to hold her team together, even as she herself nearly succumbs to despair.
After the accident and the long, difficult day that follows, Laz goes home, stands in front of her self-driving car and instructs it to hit her at full speed—an apparent suicide attempt. (The car’s safety features won’t allow the collision to take place.) Meanwhile, Tom’s daughter, Denise, returns home after a prodigal absence. Tom can see that she’s high on something. And when she rushes to the kitchen sink to vomit, he holds her hair out of her way. He then tucks her into bed and returns to his own bedroom, kneeling beside the bed in anguish, almost as if in desperate prayer.
That’s not the only allusion to faith we see or hear. As they head to the rocket’s cockpit, the doomed astronauts pass around a medallion (perhaps picturing St. Christopher) and each takes turns kissing it. In narration, someone seems to ask Laz, “Why you wanna touch God? You don’t believe in God. You want to be God.” People wish astronauts “godspeed,” and the mother of one of them crosses herself as the rocket begins its ascent.
Tom returns home to find that his dog has had an accident on the floor. “It’s OK,” he tells the pooch as he cleans up the mess. “I was gone a long time.” Astronauts joke about someone clogging the spaceship’s toilet (recalling an unfortunate experience shared by them all).
There’s discussion of vomiting. Someone smokes an e-cigarette. Tom gets a drink for the angry, grieving parent of one of the astronauts. He also runs and shaves shirtless. Denise painfully plays with her nails, as if she wants to pull or bend them clean off her fingers. (Her fingers and face both sport small wounds that would seem to hint at prior self-harm.) Characters say the f-word three times, the s-word once. We also hear, once each, “a–,” “b–ch,” “b–tard” and “d–n,” along with two uses of the word “h—.”
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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