The film recalls a pre-or-at-least-early-blockbuster mentality in American cinema when character work was truly valued in genre entries. Jones would be lost without classics like 2001: A Space Odyssey and Alien to guide him, but he and co-scribe Nathan Parker aim not for a grand statement on man nor our probing of the threatening unknown. Moon is quite simply about a man.
Well, more or less. Though Moon refuses to hinge on its narrative twist -- most people will be able to see it coming from light-years away -- there's plenty to spoil in the film's premise, especially if you're the type who prefers to go into the theater cold. Let's just leave it at this -- Sam Rockwell carries the film with his, um, multifaceted performance.
"There's a Starman Waiting in the Sky ..."
In the not so distant future, Lunar Industries solves all of Earth's energy woes by mining the sun's helium-3 from the far side of the moon. A damaged communication tower has left Lunar technician Sam Bell (Rockwell) with only recorded messages from his wife, Tess (Dominique McElligott) and little daughter Eve, in addition to instructions from the Lunar brass.
And then there's Gerty, the ship's computer assistant, voiced by Kevin Spacey and depicted by a changing series of smiley faces. Yes, Gerty is a dead ringer update of HAL 9000, but Jones and Parker effectively twist what we would expect of the cold, monotone-speaking computer. It's initially unclear where Gerty's programmed allegiances really reside. As Sam reaches his final two weeks of service on the moon, capping off a three-year stint, Gerty is his only opportunity for real-time conversation.
Appearing in a Charlie Manson-beard, Sam is understandably losing his edge as the film starts. He's beginning to see things that may or may not be there and the messages from his wife and the station's playback seems to be on the fritz. His fears and suspicions don't appear to be unfounded. After recovering from an accident with one of the helium-harvester vehicles, Sam catches Gerty speaking with Lunar behind his back. Let the paranoid freak out commence.
Coming From a Starman's Pedigree
Jones is a newcomer and whether it's a case of nature or nurture, he couldn't have been more perfectly groomed for the job of reviving original, character-driven sci-fi cinema. For those who do not know, Jones once went by the name Zowie Bowie, i.e. the son of the legendary David Bowie. In a recent interview with The New York Times, Jones mentioned his father requiring him to read at least two hours before bed.
It may seem a bit strict coming from a guy who was too coked out to remember recording one of his finest albums (Station to Station), but the hard, literary time Jones served has served him well. His literary idols -- he name drops Philip K. Dick and J.G. Ballard in the interview -- were masters of the sci-fi genre. Much can be said (and has been) about how both authors beat on about the ruination of man (and woman) through technology. Underneath it all, though, Dick and Ballard's best writings, like Moon, work because of fine detail paid to character.
One Small Step For One Small Man
Where Kubrick chronicled the rise and fall of man, Jones hones in on the loss of the individual -- the compromising of one, single life. We never get the full story, but Sam has gone through rough times with his wife -- there's a poster in his station room pledging sobriety, he speaks of a violent past. His enrollment in Lunar's moon base of one serves as a cleansing of the mind and body.
Without spoiling anything, Rockwell gives an incredible performance with little more than himself to bounce off of (no offense to Spacey, whose voice work is exactly what was needed for Gerty). What he pulls off isn't an easy feat and he carries it through with subtlety, nailing a man in two different stages of his life, both selfs simultaneously tackling an existential meltdown.
Even when Sam leaves the confines of the base, the space he inhabits never feels vast. He's limited by boundaries and whether that's a comment on his personal failures or the larger, inconsequential part he plays in the universe, it bares down on him.
Jones makes the wise aesthetic (and probably budgetary) choice by going practical with his sets and effects, further contributing to the film's pleasurably anachronistic feel. In many ways, Moon is the antithesis to the other, bigger summer space movie, Star Trek.
It isn't half as sleek, loud or gleeful. Moon's battles are mostly fought internally, to maintain identity in the face of adversity, thousands of miles away from home.
FILM RATING: 4 out of 5 stars
VERDICT: It's a fresh summer alternative to big robots and loud explosions. See it.
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