Fly Me to the Moon is simultaneously a screwball romantic comedy, a 1960s nostalgia exercise, a caper, a nod at one of the 20th century’s most notorious conspiracy theories, and sometimes a straightforward depiction of the most exciting aspects of the Apollo 11 mission.
There’s a lot that’s appealing, starting with the chemistry of stars Channing Tatum and Scarlett Johansson, the actress’ uncommon skill in wearing 1960s outfits, the period production design, and a surprisingly moving supporting performance by Ray Romano. But overall, the film tries to do too much. It also tries to have it both ways, in indulging in conspiracy lore, while also earnestly basking in the heroism and ingenuity of the Apollo project.
Fly Me to the Moon, directed by TV veteran Greg Berlanti, is a comic alternate history of the events leading up to the Apollo 11 mission and moon landing in 1969. Tatum plays “Cole Davis,” a fictional stand-in for Deke Slayton, who supervises the Apollo 11 mission while still haunted by the Apollo 1 fire that killed his astronaut friends in 1967. He’s fine, but I haven't the slightest idea why they couldn’t make his hair into the crew cut this character should have. Johansson plays Kelly Jones, a Madison Avenue hotshot brought in to encourage product placement deals around the mission. In the rom-com tradition, the two alternately flirt and lock horns throughout the movie.
Then comes Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson), a CIA type who works directly for President Nixon, and orders Kelly to set up an “alternate” broadcast of the moon landing in case the real one fails. Harrelson’s character is obviously based on future Watergate conspirator E. Howard Hunt and I’d see that even if Harrelson hadn’t just played Hunt in the HBO series White House Plumbers.
The other big supporting role is from Ray Romano as a sad-eyed NASA functionary, continuing a series of successful character roles.
It’s an ancient conspiracy theory that the moon landing was faked; some versions say Stanley Kubrick had a hand in it. There’s no Kubrick in this movie, despite some mentions of his name; instead, the “production” is overseen by a flamboyant gay director (Jim Rash) straight out of Mel Brooks’ The Producers. There was another movie, 2015’s Moonwalkers, which had the exact same premise, involving an effort to stage an alternative moon landing broadcast. It’s the better film, in that it was much weirder and not as busy. Many more people, though, will likely see Fly Me to the Moon.
Like Damien Chazelle’s Neil Armstrong biopic First Man, the film remembers for about 30 seconds that there was a counterculture in 1969 and then forgets again. But unlike that film, it can’t do anything compelling with either Armstrong or the Buzz Aldrin character, whom Corey Stoll memorably played as an ornery SOB.
The parts of Fly Me to the Moon concerning the actual launch and moon landing are moving. However, if you want a straightforward telling of that mission, watch the fantastic Apollo 11 documentary from a few years ago. If you want an alternate history of the space program, check out the series For All Mankind, which like Fly Me to the Moon is an Apple TV production. If you’re looking for a movie that provides an alternate explanation for events from that period of history, seek out 1999’s Dick, the Watergate comedy with a considerably tighter script. And if 1960s nostalgia is what you want, catch up on Mad Men, although Fly Me to the Moon’s depiction of a Madison Avenue ad wizard who used fake identities to run from a shameful past is a direct homage.
I give Fly Me to the Moon credit in that it’s a much better alt-history 1960s time capsule than the other movie to attempt that this summer, Jerry Seinfeld’s Pop Tarts movie Unfrosted.
