Full Moon

So, on my lovely day off on Friday, I went to see Moon. One of the brave and hearty few who did. Because of if you read the reviews, you’d have avoided it like a suspicious stain on the sidewalk. The Dallas Morning News (frankly, not a cultural touchstone for me) reviewed it as “boring. Agonizingly, deadeningly, coma-inducingly, they-could-bury-you-alive-accidentally boring.” Ow. But even if I had seen that bit of a shank job, I probably would have gone to see it anyway. It takes place on the MOON, people. And has Kevin Spacey as the voice of the shipboard computer (typecasting?). What else could I possibly want? I’m actually glad my lunar fetish drew me in. Because, in spite of being an imperfect movie and admittedly slow to the point of molasses at some points, it was really enjoyable for me.

There are basically 2 extremes of sci-fi: blow-‘em-up, slimy aliens, dogfights in space extravaganzas, and stories in which speculative science is used to show human drama in unfamiliar situations. It’s the difference between I Robot the book by Robert Heinlein and I Robot the Will Smith movie. And if you’re drawing that Venn diagram, there is space where those circles overlap. Moon is not in the overlap. It is firmly in the category that does not include much of anything flying across the screen in flames.

In brief, Sam is the only worker in a lunar energy harvesting facility, kept company only by his trusty computer pal, Gerty. And he’s tired and going a little stir crazy at the end of his 3-year hitch on the moon, and is ready to go home. But when his sketchy state of mind leads to an accident, he wakes up in sickbay to find he’s not alone any longer. Except that the other occupant of the station is another Sam: younger, healthier, and kinda pissed off. Much of the rest of the movie involves Sam and Sam trying to figure out WTF is going on, and what the hell to do about it.

A big, tent pole, summer blockbuster, popcorn flick it ain’t. Which is not to say that it isn’t thrilling in its own weird, intellectual way. It explores issues like identity, isolation, corporate responsibility, self examination, hope and how we chose our actions in extreme situations. The slow pace allows your brain to keep up with the mass of ideas that are being thrown at you. A big slimy alien really would have just been distracting. The obvious comparisons are to 2001 and I Robot. But I also saw some shades of Red Dwarf and a few other oddball sci-fi classics. [Also, given that the director is Duncan Bowie, son of David, I’m sure it’s going to get hammered with Major Tom allusions. And they aren’t unwarranted. But, in a good way. If Ziggy Stardust’s kid isn’t qualified to explore identity issues, who is?]

Sam Rockwell is about 90% of the movie. And I wouldn’t put him in my top range of favorite actors. Though after this, I’d consider re-evaluating my assessment. A really demanding character that he plays in a fine-tuned performance works with the subtleties of character between two versions of the same man, separated by different experiences. Low key, but bravura. And he’s got a surprisingly good rearview, that looks distractingly good in a pair of coveralls. And since he spends a lot of the movie talking to himself, his tush is in the frame a lot.

So, if your idea of sci-fi is limited to laser blasts and guys getting it on with green chicks, give this one a pass. But if you like your speculative fiction with a side of indie film talkiness, keep this one on your radar. Definitely worth a look if it comes to an art house near you.