David Denby: "Gravity" and "Enough Said" Reviews: The New Yorker In Alfonso Cuarón's frightening and beautiful space thriller, "Gravity," the musical score, by Steven Price, builds to brain-assaulting volume, only to break suddenly into silence. The quiet registers on our emotions with greater violence than the ferocious din. In this movie, silence is not only the sound of chilly outer space; it's the stillness of death, whose easeful allure beckons from the opening sequence to the last. "Gravity" is not a film of ideas, like Kubrick's techno-mystical "2001," but it's an overwhelming physical experience - a challenge to the senses that engages every kind of dread. There's strong pleasure in it, too; the movie is an adventure story in which each clumsy movement of mass and bodies startles. At the beginning of the film, an experienced astronaut, Matt Kowalski (George Clooney), is working outside the shuttle Explorer with Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), a nervous medical engineer who has never been in space before. Word comes from Houston (Ed Harris is the voice) that the Russians have demolished an obsolete satellite, which is sending fragments, shards, every kind of metallic schmutz, flying through the belt in which the shuttle orbits, some three hundred and seventy miles above Earth. The debris hits the spacecraft with vicious force, sending Kowalski and Stone spinning. Kowalski recovers, propelling himself this way and that with the little thruster jets built into his spacesuit, but Stone is adrift, tumbling over and over - she's weightless, cut off from communication with Houston, breathing too fast and using up her oxygen. Horror films are nearly always driven by the fear of an unknown thing out there in the woods, or on the other side of the door. The ghost, sooner or later, materializes. What if the ghost were nothingness? . . .