A quick review of Cosmos

Written by Robin Marie in Review at November 5, 2011

Over the past few weeks I have been watching Carl Sagan’s epic 13 episode series, Cosmos (which is also a book). Of course, I found it to be awesome in multiple ways, and I wouldn’t be adding much to go into detail about how well Sagan invokes scientific wonder or how articulate and inspiring his language is. However, I’ll hazard a few observations based on my perspective as someone who works in the humanities.

My favorite thing about Cosmos is its breadth – while clearly, science and the physical nature of the universe is the focus of the series, Sagan takes long detours to buttress scientific exploration with the history of science. We learn about the library of Alexandria, the Heikegani crabs of Japan and the legend that produced them, the life story and struggles of Johannes Kepler, the decoding of the Egyptian hieroglyphs, and much more.

This extensive storytelling has not only the effect of heightening the drama and effectiveness of the series, but of also giving it a feel of being almost as much a historical documentary as a scientific documentary – and therefore, science is not presented as an isolated, bracketed off enterprise that has no relationship to the human spirit or the human story. As a historian, I was surprised and delighted to learn history from this series I never knew before. These days, it seems most science documentaries stick rigidly to the science being explored, although there are a few that put a lot of effort into dramatizing the lives of the scientists they explore. But Sagan’s series has the intellectual creativity and courage to make connections where none are obvious – such as the extended segment on Egypt’s hieroglyphs that feeds into Sagan’s contemplations on communicating with an alien civilization.

As a lover of classical music, I also thoroughly appreciated the extended uses of some of the best classical music ever written. At one point we are treated to a depiction of all of evolutionary biology passing before our eyes in a few minutes, with a beautiful piece by Bach playing in the background. Beethoven and other well known composers also make appearances, always in places where they seem entirely appropriate. It is almost as if Sagan was aiming to make Cosmos not just a reflection on human scientific achievement, but a meditation on the entirety of human culture, accomplishment, and beauty.

One more thing about Cosmos – it’s rather funny, in a loveable way. From the somewhat frightfully bare “spaceship of the imagination” to the frequently awful synthesizer music, its very earnestness makes you a little self-conscious and snarky at first. But before you know it, you’re getting sucked into the spacescapes and the extended keyboard notes wailing in the background – and there you are, feeling all the cheesy wonder and appreciation you were supposed to. It is stealthy, and it gets under your cynical skin. Now that is quite an accomplishment – and I’m very sorry that I’ve finished the series and there are no more Cosmos evenings ahead of me.