Space/Time (2026) Review

Space/Time is the kind of science-fiction film that sneaks up on you. It doesn’t announce itself with bombast or spectacle right out of the gate. Instead, it asks for patience, curiosity, and a willingness to lean into uncertainty. What it delivers in return is a thoughtful, character-driven sci-fi story that feels far bigger than its modest scale, anchored by strong performances and a clear confidence in its ideas.

Directed by Michael O’Halloran and released by Epic Pictures, Space/Time opens not with explanation, but with chaos. An experiment goes catastrophically wrong, unleashing destruction without immediately telling us why or how. This early ambiguity is not a flaw, but a mission statement. O’Halloran, working from a script co-written with Adam Harmer, is less interested in spoon-feeding exposition than he is in immersing the audience in a world already teetering on the brink.

News footage fills in some of the background, hinting at global crises and the looming demise of Earth. Climate collapse, political instability, and existential dread hang heavy in the air. The film then jumps forward several years, and we meet Liv, played with quiet intensity by Ashlee Lollback, once again working toward something radical and hopeful: a spaceship capable of interstellar travel. This is not exploration for curiosity’s sake, but survival. Humanity’s clock is ticking, and Liv believes escape might be the only answer.

Liv’s relationship with her live-in partner Harris, portrayed by Pacharo Mzembe, forms the emotional backbone of the film. Harris was present during the disastrous experiment that opens the movie, and that shared trauma lingers beneath every interaction. Their partnership feels lived-in and grounded, full of unspoken fears and cautious optimism. Together, they are determined to do things differently this time, to ensure that their work leads somewhere meaningful rather than catastrophic.

What stands out in the first two acts of Space/Time is just how committed the film is to its characters. The pacing is deliberately methodical, even slow at times, but it serves a clear purpose. O’Halloran allows us to sit with these scientists, to understand not only what they are building, but why. Their motivations are deeply personal, shaped by guilt, hope, and the weight of responsibility. When the film eventually circles back to the initial disaster through a carefully placed flashback, the emotional context makes the revelations land with far more impact.

Central to the narrative is the engine itself, a device capable of bending both space and time. The science is intentionally abstracted, focusing more on implications than equations. While the mechanics can be a bit confusing in places, the premise remains believable because it is rooted in human intention rather than technobabble. The engine is not just a machine; it is a symbol of second chances and dangerous ambition.

That ambition finds its most unsettling expression in Holt, played by Hugh Parker. Holt is another scientist working toward similar goals, but his obsession sets him apart. From his first appearance, there is an undercurrent of unease. He believes in the mission, but his priorities feel skewed, his ethics malleable. Parker brings a quiet menace to the role, never overplaying it, allowing Holt’s questionable intentions to unfold gradually. He serves as a compelling counterpoint to Liv, embodying the darker side of scientific pursuit when ego eclipses empathy.

Visually, Space/Time is far more striking than one might expect given its limited locations and cast. The film is beautifully shot, using clean compositions and restrained production design to suggest a much larger world beyond the frame. O’Halloran makes smart use of his resources, proving that scale in science fiction is often a matter of imagination rather than budget. The sterile environments of labs and living spaces reinforce the emotional isolation of the characters, while subtle visual cues hint at the vastness they are striving to reach.

As the story progresses, early hints of what is to come begin to coalesce. Threads laid down in the opening acts start to pull tight, and by the time the film enters its third act, the groundwork has been thoroughly laid. This is where Space/Time takes a turn that is both surprising and satisfying. The final act is unexpectedly action-heavy, a sharp contrast to the slow burn that precedes it. Because the film has taken its time getting there, the shift feels earned rather than jarring.

The action itself is not gratuitous. It is a natural extension of the story’s stakes finally colliding. The careful pacing of the first two-thirds pays off as tension explodes into motion, and the emotional investment built along the way gives the climax real weight. By this point, it is easy to be fully bought into what is happening, even if some of the science remains deliberately opaque.

The pacing, while occasionally testing patience, is ultimately one of the film’s strengths. Yes, the slow tempo can make the middle stretch feel drawn out, especially given the limited number of locations and characters. But Space/Time is a film about big ideas: sacrifice, survival, and the moral cost of progress. Those ideas need room to breathe. When the payoff arrives, it feels not only worthwhile, but necessary.

Science-fiction enthusiasts who appreciate thoughtful world-building and character-focused storytelling will find much to admire here. This is not a film chasing constant spectacle or easy answers. It trusts its audience to engage, to sit with ambiguity, and to reflect on the consequences of humanity’s choices.

Ultimately, Space/Time feels like a confident step forward for Michael O’Halloran as a filmmaker. It showcases his ability to handle complex themes, extract strong performances from a small cast, and make a modest production feel expansive. More than that, it hints at even bigger things to come. If this film is any indication, O’Halloran is a storyteller unafraid of tackling large ideas with patience and precision, and Space/Time stands as a compelling testament to that potential.