Every now and then, usually when there’s a NASA-related movie or streaming series coming out, I’ll hear from one or two individuals who are convinced the Apollo 11 moon landing was faked. As someone who has written three books and numerous Sun-Times columns on urban legends and conspiracy theories, I suppose I’m a semi-popular target for emails that link to “evidence” supporting the staged-landing theory, e.g., the inconsistent placement of a shadow cast by Neil Armstrong, or the lack of stars in photos taken by the astronauts. I’ll reply with emails linking to stories debunking these urban legends, thank them for their time, and move on.
For my conspiracy-minded friends, the upbeat period-piece NASA comedy “Fly Me to the Moon” might feel like a documentary, what with a storyline that has the government planning a phony moon landing, in case the mission doesn’t go off as planned. For those of us with our feet planted in reality on planet Earth, this is a wonderfully entertaining flight of fancy, set against the build-up to the July 16, 1969, launch of Apollo 11.
With director Greg Berlanti (“Love, Simon”) skillfully weaving in a myriad of storylines that justify the 132-minute running time, Rose Gilroy delivering a crisp and funny script (based on a story by Bill Kirstein and Kennan Flynn) and Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum igniting the fuse with good old-fashioned, Grade A movie-star chemistry, “Fly Me to the Moon” is a “go” from the get-go.
With visuals and a spirit often more reminiscent of late 1950s romantic comedies and early 1960s “Mad Men” than the 1969 setting, “Fly Me to the Moon” kicks into gear when a government spook named Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson) approaches Manhattan PR hotshot Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson) with an intriguing offer: Kelly will take over the public relations/marketing campaign for NASA, which has been steadily losing public favor and support in the Senate over the years, with focus turning to the Vietnam War and pressing domestic issues. Not that Kelly really has a choice; either she accepts the assignment, or Moe will expose her for building an entire career and identity based on a pyramid of cons and lies.
Cut to the astronaut hangout Wolfie’s Restaurant in Cocoa Beach, Florida, where the decorated Korean War pilot turned NASA launch director Cole Davis (Channing Tatum), who looks like he stepped out of “The Right Stuff,” has a meet-cute with Kelly that has echoes of the Tom Cruise-Kelly McGillis intro in “Top Gun." That includes the next-day scene when Cole is stunned to learn Kelly is now working for NASA and has big plans for how they can raise some quick cash via marketing deals with Omega, Tang, Fruit of the Loom, etc.
“I am not turning this ship into a flying billboard ... and by the way, we don’t have time to test all this before liftoff,” says Cole.
“We don’t have to send any of this up into space as long as we SAY it went,” comes the reply.
“Oh, so you’re going to lie.”
“It’s called selling.”
(Note: NASA indeed did have product tie-ins with a number of companies, though some deals, e.g., Tang, were forged years before Apollo 11.)
With the requisite period-piece needle drops piped in along the way, the story grows ever more complicated but remains mostly breezy. The mission becomes endangered when it appears there aren’t enough votes in the Senate to back further funding, so Kelly uses her con-game skill set to segue from marketing specialist to political lobbyist. At times the Kennedy Space Center has an almost “I Dream of Jeannie” lightness — there’s more than one nighttime party so the lovable gang of geeks and nerds and astronauts can blow off a little steam in wholesome fashion — but we also get some heavy dramatic moments. (Cole and Kelly have two of the most tragic back stories of any pairing in romantic comedy history.)
Even when it’s a near-certainty the launch will succeed, the government proceeds with a contingency plan that entails building a set and delivering the false feed to the public in order to control the narrative. Kelly brings in the demanding and flamboyant director Lance Vespertine (the always funny Jim Rash) to oversee a production complete with actors playing Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins. (Cue the multiple Stanley Kubrick jokes, as Kubrick’s name is often connected to the faked moon landing tall tales.) Sparks are flying between Cole and Kelly, but what will happen if he finds out about the contingency plan? Can a straight-shooting, All-American dreamer ever truly find love with a lifelong cynic who believes in style over substance? Hmmmmmmm.
Veering from nostalgia drama to slapstick comedy to conspiracy story to romance, “Fly Me to the Moon” keeps on shifting gears until it ends on just the right note. It’s that relatively rare film that really should appeal to the obligatory Audiences of All Ages.
