I first saw Star Wars in 1977, shortly after it came out. I was ten years old and, of course, enthralled from the start. Those magical words: "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." And then a shudder of wonder as a massive spaceship rumbled across the star-filled screen, seemingly right above our heads.
Another film about space, Christopher Nolan's Interstellar, was released last week. It launched into a world far more cynical and sophisticated than the one that greeted Star Wars. Indeed, part of the premise of the film is that the human race has lost interest in space exploration; it is too busy trying to solve its own problems. In reality, though, space retains its allure. A prototype Virgin spaceship crashed a few days ago, killing one of its pilots. Yet a bunch of wealthy and famous people are still willing to pay $250,000 and risk their lives to take the ultimate weightless selfie. That's because space really is the final frontier. As Richard Branson said, "Space is hard." It certainly plays hard to get. Even if you can afford to do anything, go anywhere and have anyone, space looks down on you. Magnificent and inaccessible, it is the ultimate club, with tough door staff. I doubt that Katy Perry and her fellow ticket holders have the right stuff to join NASA, so only a ride on Branson's vomit comet will give them a chance to touch the infinite.
