Douglas Trumbull's first feature remains unique in the world of science fiction cinema. An ecological fable that eschews the shiny trappings that have come to define the genre, it's a hand-crafted picture with as much relevance today as in 1972 when Trumbull, special effects photographer on Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, brought his concept to fruition. For writers, he turned to The Deer Hunter's writer-director duo Deric Washburn and Michael Cimino (billed as Mike) and future Hill Street Blues creator Steven Bochco. Trumbull introduces botanist Freeman Lowell (Bruce Dern, Nebraska), outfitted in a monk-like robe, tending the plants inside a geodesic dome attached to a former freighter vessel. Around him, rabbits hop, and hawks fly. He's part of a four-man crew that has been maintaining six domes ever since humankind rendered flora and fauna extinct.
The science doesn't quite work, since living things need oxygen to breathe, but the script presupposes that humans have solved that problem. To relieve the boredom, Keenan (Cliff Potts), Barker (Ron Rifkin), and Wolf (Jesse Vint) play poker and race all-terrain vehicles in the storage bay. Lowell joins them for poker, otherwise keeping to himself. When they receive word that they can return home, the trio can hardly believe their luck. To return the vessel to freighter duty, they just need to detonate the domes. The stunned look in Lowell's eyes makes it clear that he'll do everything in his power to stop them, though he's unable to save the first five. In desperation, he dispatches his crewmates, leaving him alone with three proto-R2-D2 robots or "drones" he names Huey, Dewy, and Louie (endearing characters played by four bilateral amputees). He isn't without remorse, but he forges on. When he injures his leg, he programs the drones to operate on it. When he craves a round of poker, he programs them to play.
After a rescue outfit locates the vessel, he has two hours to come up with a solution to an impossible predicament. In retrospect, it feels as inevitable as it does tragic. Before Trumbull cast him, Dern specialized in villainous types, making him perfect casting for an antihero who may be hurtling towards insanity, but that doesn't make his desire to preserve the planet's last remaining forest any less laudable. Instead of an otherworldly score, composer Peter Schickele, aka P.D.Q. Bach, provides wistful, orchestral coloring, while Joan Baez's folk songs pay tribute to the earthly pleasures of yore. If the modestly-budgeted Silent Running wasn't a box office hit, its influence lives on in ecologically-oriented sci-fi films like Danny Boyle's Sunshine and Alex Garland's Annihilation, even as it retains a prickly singularity. Separate commentary tracks from Trumbull and Dern and authors Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw detail the making of the film, connecting it to Trumbull's work on other classics of the genre, like Robert Wise's The Andromeda Strain and Ridley Scott's Blade Runner. Highly recommended.