Solaris (1972, Soviet Union)
Let’s start with the original master of philosophical sci-fi, Andrei Tarkovsky. While Interstellar explores the physics of time and gravity, Solaris explores the physics of grief and memory. The story follows a psychologist sent to a space station orbiting
a mysterious, sentient ocean planet. The crew has been plagued by strange occurrences, and he soon discovers why: the planet is manifesting physical replicas of their most painful memories. For the protagonist, this means the return of his wife who died years ago. Like Interstellar, this is a story about being haunted by love across the vastness of space. It trades black holes for an ocean of consciousness, but the central question is the same: what does it mean to be human when you're completely untethered from home? It’s a slow, meditative, and beautiful film that prioritizes existential questions over action.
The Wandering Earth (2019, China)
If it’s the sheer, jaw-dropping scale of Interstellar you’re after, look no further. Based on a novella by the acclaimed author Liu Cixin, this Chinese blockbuster has a premise that makes saving humanity via a wormhole seem almost quaint. When the sun begins to expand, threatening to swallow the Earth, humanity's solution isn't to leave the planet—it's to move the planet. By building thousands of colossal engines across the globe, they turn Earth into a generation ship, rocketing it out of the solar system toward a new star. The film captures the same sense of epic engineering and race-against-time desperation that defines Nolan's movie. It also mirrors the painful family dynamic, focusing on an astronaut on a guiding space station and his estranged son on the frozen surface below.
Aniara (2018, Sweden/Denmark)
This film takes the quiet dread of being lost in space and turns it into a full-blown existential crisis. Based on a 1956 Swedish epic poem, Aniara follows a luxury transport vessel taking evacuees from a ravaged Earth to a colony on Mars. When a collision with space debris knocks them off course and forces them to eject their fuel, the three-week trip becomes a potentially endless drift into the void. The ship becomes a microcosm of society, and we watch as its passengers grapple with the slow-motion certainty that there is no rescue coming. It’s a dark, unflinching look at what happens to humanity when all hope is lost, stripping away the optimism of Interstellar to reveal the terror underneath. It’s the bleak flip side of humanity’s journey to the stars.
Stalker (1979, Soviet Union)
Another masterpiece from Andrei Tarkovsky, Stalker isn't a space movie, but it captures the metaphysical mystery at the heart of Interstellar's final act. The film follows three men—the Stalker, the Writer, and the Professor—on a journey into the Zone, a forbidden territory of alien origin where the laws of physics are warped. At its center is a Room, which is said to grant the innermost desires of anyone who enters. The journey is treacherous not because of physical obstacles, but because the Zone itself seems to test their faith, cynicism, and motivations. It evokes the same sense of awe and confusion as Cooper’s journey into the tesseract. It’s a film about a close encounter that has nothing to do with aliens and everything to do with confronting the deepest, most hidden parts of yourself.
High Life (2018, France/Germany)
This is perhaps the most challenging film on the list, but it shares a surprisingly specific core with Interstellar: a father-daughter relationship in the crushing isolation of deep space. Directed by the singular Claire Denis, the film follows a group of death row inmates sent on a one-way mission toward a black hole to test a theory of energy extraction. The narrative is fragmented and often brutal, exploring themes of survival, taboo, and bodily autonomy. At its center is Monte (Robert Pattinson) and his daughter, Willow, the sole survivors of the chaotic mission. It’s a raw, intimate, and often disturbing look at the primal aspects of humanity set against a futuristic backdrop. Where Interstellar found hope in the father-daughter bond, High Life uses it as a fragile anchor in a deeply nihilistic universe.
