Conspiracy theories are as old as time, but one in particular involving NASA, the moon landings, and their respective fakery, dates back to approximately the mid-‘70s. One such conspiracy theory involves Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke as the central architects of the faked moon landing(s). Since then, adherents of the “faked moon landings” version of events have remained a persistent group, dismissed as delusional crackpots who refuse to accept anything outside the confines of their rigid, inflexible beliefs.
How – and why — said conspiracy theory became a central plot point in director Greg Berlanti’s (Love, Simon) period-set romantic comedy, Fly Me to the Moon, would probably make for a modestly intriguing piece on an entertainment site or an old-school magazine article. It feels less like an organic narrative element or outcome, though, and more like a cynical, borderline desperate ploy to add a little pop-culture juice to an otherwise straightforward, star-dependent rom-com.
Thematically, the faked moon landing plot ties into Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson), a Madison Avenue advertising executive who, based on her profession, skills, and talents, lies for a comfortably materialistic living. An enigmatic government functionary without a portfolio, Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson), arm-twists Kelly over drinks into helping NASA’s then struggling space program regain its fading pop-culture footing and in turn, help NASA obtain the taxpayer funds necessary to put a man, Neil Armstrong (Nick Dillenburg), on the moon and bringing him and his comrades-in-astronauting, Buzz Aldrin (Colin Woodell) and Michael Collins (Christian Zuber), safely back to Earth.
As NASA’s new public affairs chief, Kelly naturally — because Fly Me to the Moon embraces every rom-com trope known to humankind — comes into frequent, direct conflict with Cole Davis (Channing Tatum), Apollo 11’s current launch director. A former pilot and aspiring astronaut, Cole washed out of the program due to a minor heart issue (AFIB), but that isn’t the reason behind his no-nonsense, rule-bound personality: The deaths of the Apollo 1 astronauts several years earlier haunts Cole, leaving him guilt-ridden and withdrawn, obsessively maintaining their starkly modernist memorial.
Cole’s dark, tortured past isn’t usually the stuff of rom-coms. Then again, the same applies to Kelly’s shady, pre-Madison Avenue past. It’s a past Berkus uses to force Kelly to take the position as NASA’s newest publicity director and later, far more ominously, to force Kelly into leading the “faked moon landing” effort, a standby/alternative created as a contingency in case something goes awry and Apollo 11 doesn’t make it safely to the moon. In the battle of ideologies, of capitalism vs. communism, East vs. West, and the U.S. vs. the Soviet Union, only one side can or should claim to be first on the moon.
Kelly’s hesitation, a product of her intensifying feelings for the ultra-straight-arrow Cole and her own reawakened conscience, eventually gives way. With the assistance of her right-hand woman, Ruby Martin (Anna Garcia), and an egotistical, bombastic commercials director, Lance Vespertine (Jim Rash), they somehow manage to evade detection or even suspicion, using an abandoned hanger to recreate the surface of the moon landing, add a detail-perfect lunar lander, and hire actors as Earth-side stand-ins for Armstrong and Aldrin.
Fly Me to the Moon mines whatever humour it can from Kelly and Cole’s ongoing personality clashes, the former’s casual command of any room she enters, blinding men with an unassailable combination of beauty, smarts, and charms (and an occasional faked pregnancy), and the latter’s inability to hide how instantly besotted he’s become with Kelly. He tries to reject everything she presumably stands for (the ‘sell everything’ attitude of corporate capitalism), yet also finds himself recognizing the value in her efforts to bring a renewed focus on the foundering Apollo moon program.
The mix of opposites-attract comedy only goes so far and where the comedy ends, Johansson and Tatum — and specifically their chemistry — begins (and also ends). They’re often asked to elevate Rose Gilroy’s slightly undercooked dialogue or switch between light comedy to dark drama (Cole’s backstory) and back again. Their chemistry, however, occasionally falters when one too many tonal shifts occur over a short period of screen time.
At least they never look less than fantastic. The production values, specifically a fetishistic attention to period detail, are never less than the best money can buy. Likewise Dariusz Wolski’s sparkling, textured cinematography and Daniel Pemberton’s buoyant, effervescent score. Altogether, it adds up to a mostly engaging, sporadically entertaining throwback to ‘60s-era, time-wasting rom-coms.
Fly Me to the Moon opens theatrically on Friday, July 12.
