Isn’t it odd that a truly spectacular sci-fi Hollywood film should be remembered for its emotional impact? That Interstellar is a visual delight is the general consensus. Nolan likes to make his films grand and spectacular. And cerebral. But Interstellar which he has co-written with his brother Jonathan, goes a step further, chartering undiscovered territories not just in space  but even more significantly, into the zone of the human heart.  The film tells the story of man’s odyssey beyond the solar system, searching for another habitable planet. The narrative opens into a foreboding future time, when the earth has turned into a dustbowl, and a total wipe-out is just around the corner. Cooper (Matthew McConaughey), a pilot forced into being a farmer, is sent for surreptitiously by who else but a hiding NASA (what would Hollywood do without NASA!). The scene in which Cooper goes to see his 12-year-old daughter Murph (Mackenzie Foy) before finally going interstellar is beautifully crafted. The pain of bidding farewell to your most loved one, coupled with the agony of uncertainty weighs heavy on the father-daughter duo. This is one of the first scenes of the film where Nolan explores the bond of love, a dimension that is beyond all the dimensions that man has conquered. This is the same love that intuitively guides Dr Brand (Anne Hathaway), another scientist on board, towards habitation in pure nothingness, and which enables Cooper’s return back to Murph. Love becomes Cooper’s guiding light towards the unknown. This is perhaps Nolan’s first venture into the world of feelings, and he excels here too. He deftly handles his screenplay as well as his actors in scenes that throb with emotional intensity. That the highly logical and left-brained Cooper returns home with a deep faith in the power of sublime love makes Interstellar more than a sci-fi extravaganza to me. “The end of Earth will not be the end of us,” says the film’s tagline.