What do you get when a science-fiction adventure keeps moving faster than its own hyperdrive?
A film powered by confidence alone, shedding ideas as it goes, convinced that momentum will be enough.

Some films charge ahead. Some take their time. And some move so quickly between ideas they forget to let any of them land. Lost in Space (1998) is that third kind — a confident, expensive adventure that moves like a film in a hurry, explains, reassures, and pushes forward, rarely pausing long enough to let tension take hold. What should feel like momentum slowly turns into distance — scenes pass, rules blur, and consequence slips quietly out of frame.

There’s intelligence and effort on display, but very little patience. It can carry you across the galaxy, but it forgets the small packets of nuts and coffee — and you feel the absence long before the destination.