Let's look at this movie. I mean really look at it: It's got a fantastic director in Danny Boyle; it's got a large scale concept that could be fun if handled with a Dr. Who-esque levity; and it's got scale. So where does it fall flat?
In a sentence, taking itself too damn seriously. When you're making a movie that has absolutely no scientific merit, you don't want to dwell on the science of it. This movie insists on being hard sci-fi, which is a bit hard to do when you're insisting that the sun is just going out and we need to reignite it with a fission bomb, in open ignorance of basic facts about how stars work that you might find in, say, a children's song written 50 years ago.
So of course, you're not gonna get any self-awareness or campiness out of it. No, far from that, the film fancies itself a "meditative psychodrama" in the style of the much better 2001: A Space Odyssey. Which would be fine, if the characters were the least bit relatable, but (rather realistically) everyone on board seems to be a bit off. This could be from the months of isolation on a suicide mission, or could be from the fact that the crew psychologist (y'know, the guy in charge of keeping them all sane) is the most batfuck insane of all of them, regularly immolating himself on the sun observation deck and then peeling dead skin off himself during "serious" moments.
But hey, at least that's a solid direction, right? I mean it might not be everyone's bag of tea, but it's a brave style choice in an industry that rarely deviates from the conventional.
What's that? Oh yeah, Space Freddy Kreuger shows up in the last half hour of the film and wrecks their shit. So, so much for that I guess.
If you like slow pacing, cyan and orange, playing "find the plot hole," the failure of a much better filmmaker to beat Michael Bay at science, and an array of worthless characters sitting about looking forlorn, this is a movie for you.