The moon landing was not faked.
Over 50 years since it happened, there should be no doubt whatsoever that the moon landing really happened. Decades of expert analysis have definitively proven that the best possible special effects technology of the time could not simulate the moon landing with the quality and volume of the Apollo 11 footage. It’s beyond question that we can put fleets of satellites and space stations up into geosynchronous orbit, so it should be damn well within our capabilities to send someone up to the moon and back. I need hardly add that our Space Race rivals — particularly Russia — have the most vested interest in proving or even accusing NASA of faking the moon landing, and none of them have ever done so at any point in over five decades.
And of course there’s the tiny little detail that the actual moon landing was accomplished by hard-working geniuses who knew what they were doing, while any faked footage would’ve been accomplished by small-minded idiots who didn’t.
Fly Me to the Moon is a romantic comedy set against the moon landing. And the production of a fake lunar broadcast should be enough of a signal that this film has no basis in reality. Even the most cursory of online searches will show that none of these characters actually existed, and the events of the plot go directly against NASA policy. I might go even further and argue that the characters are all so heightened and their actions so egregious that there are stretches of the plot that defy all common sense. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take it from the top, shall we?
Channing Tatum plays Cole Davis, a Korean War vet who sadly washed out of being an astronaut. Instead, he works for NASA as a flight director, minding every last nut and bolt so we don’t get another fatal disaster like Apollo 1. (It’s a sore topic for him. Long story.) Trouble is, NASA is underfunded and understaffed because… well, it’s 1969. The Civil Rights movement is happening, the Vietnam War is still going on, people have other problems they’d rather be spending taxpayer money on.
Enter Kelly Jones (producer Scarlett Johansson), an amoral and ruthless advertising executive (like there’s any other kind) who does not regard any rules or ethics or personal feelings in the interest of selling a product. She’s recruited by Woody Harrelson’s character, a shadowy figure from the Nixon Administration. (Pity the film is pre-Watergate or the jokes would’ve written themselves.) Thus Kelly is hired to sell the American public and their elected representatives on the Space Race, thus ensuring that NASA gets the funding they need to beat the USSR to the moon. Hilarity ensues.
Obviously, the bulk of the screentime is dedicated to the Cole/Kelly interplay, with Cole representing the NASA engineers and Kelly representing the general public. Cole loves the space program because of the ingenuity and hard work of so many great Americans sacrificing so much for their nation and the scientific advancement of humanity as a whole. Kelly loves the space program for the razzle-dazzle imagery and heroism and excitement and whatnot.
Cole has to gradually learn that people can’t be inspired solely by cold facts and logic. He’s a man whose pride and integrity demand that he does everything on his own, gradually coming to learn that he needs the help of others who won’t chip in until he gets their attention. Moreover, Cole is deeply haunted by the Apollo 1 deaths, until he finally learns he doesn’t have to carry that guilt alone. Indeed, bringing the nation together to grieve the fallen can be a powerful motivating force.
As for Kelly, she’s got her own checkered past that comes with a long string of aliases. Here is a woman whose entire life is built on lies upon lies, until she finally learns that she can’t outrun the truth forever. She’s a woman who believes that the ends always justify the means, who never had to directly face all the people she’s swindled, until the prospect of a faked moon landing turns out to potentially be the lie too big for her to cope with.
This is very much a movie about the delicate balance between lies and truths and in-betweens. Lies and truths can both be inspiring in their own way, but lies are fragile and truth can be restrictive. Sometimes, to truly make the point in an iconic and everlasting manner, it takes a lie to tell the truth. That’s what stories are all about.
The Cole/Kelly romance elegantly serves to illustrate the themes of the film. I love how the two characters complement each other in such a way that they keep locking horns until they force each other to find a happy middle ground. That said, I almost wish the two actors had swapped roles. Channing Tatum is such a notorious ham, he would’ve done far better work as the fast-talking charlatan running circles around everyone else. And while ScarJo is perfectly fine in her role, she could’ve really melted faces as the stern and coldly logical Bitch In Charge. The central pairing works well enough as is, but both of them — most especially Tatum — are visibly chafing against the limits of their respective characters. And don’t give me that shit about how it isn’t historically accurate, we’ve firmly established that historical accuracy is a tertiary concern at best.
And then there’s Woody Harrelsen. I should point out that precisely because this shadowy government agent is a Woody Harrelson character, it’s impossible to tell how full of shit he really is. He could be legitimately dangerous, he could be totally inept, he could be lying or telling the truth. The only thing for certain is that when he talks, you damn well listen.
More to the point, Harrelson embodies the notion that for better or worse, NASA is at the mercy of politicians whose only skill is impressing their own self-importance unto themselves and others. This character and the people he represents are solely interested in the Space Race as American propaganda. It’s not about getting to the moon first, it’s about getting credit for getting to the moon first. And it’s not just Harrelson’s character — the supporting cast features a roster of senators (including a speaking cameo role from Mr. ScarJo himself, Colin Jost), whose only interest is how the Space Race personally benefits them and advances their respective agendas.
At its heart and core, this is a film in which the socially awkward experts either can’t or won’t dumb things down enough to communicate on the level of the layperson. Even worse, they’re at the mercy of politicians who are potentially even dumber and more desperately egocentric. The obvious point of comparison here is with Damien Chazelle’s First Man, or Theodore Melfi’s Hidden Figures. But in point of fact, this movie actually has a lot more in common with Chris McKay’s Don’t Look Up or Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer.
This movie is significantly more optimistic and comical than all those other films. Unlike most of those other films, this one offers reassurance that the smarter people will win out precisely because they’re smarter. (Which was a huge part of what made Hidden Figures such a crowd-pleaser.) Unfortunately, Greg Berlanti is nowhere near as talented a filmmaker as any of those others.
While Hidden Figures was likewise an inspirational dramedy about the Space Race, it had the Civil Rights angle and the credibility that comes with directly adapting true events. Fly Me to the Moon has neither. The film desperately wants to be a smart movie about stupid characters, and that was absolutely possible, but not like this.
The film is simply too heightened and too absurdly fictional to operate on an intellectual level. Case in point: The fake moon landing is directed by a flamboyantly queer Jim Rash character. You do not hire Jim Rash to play a character that anyone can take seriously. Jim Rash does not operate within a plausibly logical world.
Even better, the film jumps the shark early on when Kelly hires more photogenic actors to play Cole and Harry Smalls (another key NASA engineer, played by Ray Romano). Kelly even went and fudged their backstories with details that are verifiably untrue (“My dad’s not even dead!”). But the kicker comes later on, when the real Cole finally agrees to go on TV, and nobody mentions that he doesn’t look or sound anything like the other Cole who got brought out in front of the cameras a couple months ago. The lack of internal logic is astounding.
But all of this comes secondary to the one major question I kept asking over and over again: Why the nine hells is this movie 130 minutes long?!
We don’t need to spend over two hours on a freaking romcom. We don’t need over two hours to establish one of the most heavily documented events of the past hundred years. With characters this heightened and development arcs so predictable, it should not take this much time getting to sufficiently know them.
I can only chalk up the overlong runtime as further proof that Fly Me to the Moon is trying to punch way too far above its weight class. There was never any shame in being a silly little romcom, but the filmmakers just had to bring in an overqualified cast and entertain delusions of being the next Hidden Figures. The end result is a film that’s nowhere near smart enough or well-crafted enough to be an awards contender, and its funny patches aren’t funny enough to make it a consistently good comedy. That said, at least the romance is sufficiently cute. And the premise is a remarkably clever use of the setting, provided the film isn’t viewed or judged as a depiction of true events.
It’s a film that demands to be taken seriously, even as it’s too heightened and too contrived to take seriously. It all evens out to a cute and harmless bit of cinematic fluff. An easy home video recommendation.