Andy Weir’s spiritual sequel to “The Martian” is slated to hit theaters in May 2026. The novel the new film is based on, “Project Hail Mary,” doesn’t stray too far from the formula that made “The Martian” so popular — a scientist facing his own visceral mortality, meticulously detailing his problem-solving and engineering chops that deliver him out of the situation. Oh, and sarcastically commentating the entire debacle in snarky turns toward the camera. Humor even at the end of the world.
For the most part, this is why “The Martian” is so beloved. Mark Watney’s flippant treatment of his dire circumstances — even if they are often masking his real emotions — are a testament to the excellence and capability of humanity. The indomitable human spirit, if you will. The NASA backdrop evokes American excellence, but the book has a broader goal — it restores faith in humanity, a faith that goes beyond nations or creeds. It reminds us that we are able to not only fight our way out of bad circumstances, but reason ourselves out of them as well. The events that transpire in the book are a mesh of both individual and collective triumphs that eventually lead to the safe return of Watney. It’s about inspiration. It’s about hope. It’s not super nuanced.
So, skipping past Weir’s less well-received sophomore novel, “Artemis,” — a female-led book that features a heist on a space station and the same flippant voice of “The Martian” — Weir’s third book, “Project Hail Mary,” also does pretty much what you’d expect from him at this point. Instead of botanist Mark Watney fending for his survival alone on Mars, biologist-turned-science-teacher Ryland Grace is the sole champion for the survival of humanity. He’s stranded on a spaceship, light years away from home, when he wakes up surrounded by the bones of his crew and no memory of how he got there.
It’s interesting. A little darker.
The book proceeds as Weir’s other books do. Various problems are presented, and our lead character wittily faces them with the scientific knowledge we expect his protagonists to have. “Project Hail Mary” jumps back a bit as Ryland’s memory slowly fills in — we learn that he’s not exactly the noble hero that his circumstances cast him as. We’re endeared to the subversively friendly alien he meets while stranded — here’s that classic blockbuster-suited optimism — and we’re endeared to Ryland simply because of his fun internal monologue and competence at high-stakes problem solving. This is what Weir is good at: tying his readers into the humor and charm of these flaw-ridden characters, compelling you to root for the underdog, who has all the odds stacked against him. He will overcome. He will beat the odds, and not because he’s lucky or perfect but because he’s human. Because he doesn’t stop trying.
Where “The Martian” doesn’t necessarily succeed in its transfer to screen, and where an adaptation of “Project Hail Mary” might falter in kind, is in the moments of broken synergy with the film’s often romantic ideas of exceptionalism. One of the biggest changes from book to screen from “The Martian” is the final scene, where Watney is launched off the surface of the planet to the crew that returned for him. In the movie, Mark is dramatically dragged off the planet, narrowly missing the ship sent to rescue him before he pokes holes in his Extravehicular Activity (EVA) suit to propel himself toward his rescuers — a call-back to the very beginning of his desertion. He “Iron-Mans” across space with a level of control that’s probably physically impossible, locking arms with his crewmate and returning home as a hero.
The book ends quieter. Watney passes out upon his entry to the upper atmosphere, and his crewmate makes the EVA rescue. Watney spends the last few pages mulling over what we, humans, can do as long as we work together for a common goal. Weir’s not reaching new frontiers of controversial thematic storytelling. But the ending of “Project Hail Mary” is a bit more odd.
Over the course of the book, Ryland befriends a stony alien he names “Rocky.” They have an “Arrival” moment, swapping stories and becoming friends. In the book’s final act, they part ways, each returning home as the saving grace of their planets. Ryland, though, watching his friend drift across space, sees that Rocky’s ship has stopped moving. He realizes what has gone wrong and has to make a choice: send the world-saving materials the pair had found back to Earth without him, save Rocky and complete his suicide mission or return to Earth and get his life back, whatever semblance of it is left.
It’s an emotional moment for Ryland, coming out of a revelation that twists the context of the choice just a little tighter. But he, as any adventure hero should, chooses self-sacrifice. The final scene of the novel is his entering a classroom of aliens on Rocky’s planet and regaling us about his newfound life on the planet Erid — made habitable for him by invention — and a giant dome for him to be studied in. He’s not super miffed about it. Ryland makes the best of his circumstances and lives happily ever after; the only human on a planet full of rock aliens, and a hero.
It’s kind of a weird ending. Weir loses his momentum here, following his characters and their motives and relationships to their logical conclusions — Rocky would not have left Ryland, who likewise would not have left Rocky’s entire species to die — but it’s not what you’d expect from novels that are about space travel, and especially not the ending of a book “crushing their bugs” or the philosophical weight of crushing the bugs in turn crushing them. Ender Wiggin is devastated by the destruction of the Formics. Billy Pilgrim is unstuck by the horror of war. I can’t decide if Weir’s subversive addition to this canon is incredibly naive, or just lacks something to say.
Either way, it’s something that a blockbuster studio, one that can’t allow “The Martian” to end without a final scene of explicitly heroic and individualistic action, must be hesitant to adapt. “Project Hail Mary” carries similar themes as its predecessor — hope against hope, sacrifice, empathy — and its ending cements that. But Ryan Gosling’s casting post-“Barbie” seems to indicate that the lean of the movie will be toward its humor, not the weird little rock guys that Ryland Grace decides are an adequate alternative to humanity, an adequate alternative to death. Preservation of that final scene, of the humbling of humanity as a whole, will tell us exactly how far outside exceptionalism Hollywood is willing to step.
Senior Arts Editor Cora Rolfes can be reached at corolfes@umich.edu.
