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Good science fiction is always really about the present. At its best, the genre comments on the issues of the day by following humanity's trajectory to its inevitable conclusion, usually with disquieting results. Moon is a film that understands this and has things to say, but overlooks some crucial elements and falls a bit short of its considerable potential.
Set in the near-future, Moon takes place exclusively on its namesake. There, a mining worker named Sam Bell (played by his namesake, Sam Rockwell) is finishing up a three-year contract mining Helium-3, which we're told supplies 70% of the earth's energy. His only company is a robot named Gerty (voiced by Kevin Spacey). Gerty seems to possess a near-human level of intelligence, and even empathy, though the film isn't particularly concerned with the ramifications of Artificial Intelligence. All we need to know is that the robots haven't overthrown humanity quite yet.
Sam gets to go home in just two weeks, and goes about his daily routine performing basic maintenance on the Helium-3 harvesters (which he's named after the four Gospels). He passes the time by creating small wooden sculptures and watching family videos sent from home. A problem with a nearby satellite interferes with his live communication feed from Earth so that all messages are accompanied by a significant delay, a fact which heightens his isolation. Sam's lack of direct human contact begins to take its toll; his health devolves and a number of unusual events start to interrupt his routine. He has an accident while transporting fuel from a harvester, and wakes up in the base's infirmary. It becomes clear that something has happened during his blackout, and the secrets behind his assignment start to unfold.
Moon is a better film than it is a story. A remarkable amount of technical skill went into its creation in service of a tale that doesn't always hold together. When the film's central concept reveals itself to the viewer (and to Sam) halfway through its 97-minute runtime, the apparent motivations behind it aren't entirely believable. A major impetus goes unexplained, as well, though Moon is engrossing enough that I find I didn't notice until afterwards. Those focused more on the film's emotional core may not care about any of this, but anyone concerned with loose ends and basic plausibility probably will.
The decision to reveal what's happening to both the audience and Sam so early is bold, and a lesser film would've waited for the third act and made the revelation its centerpiece. Instead, Moon focuses less on what's happened, and more on Sam's evolving reactions to the unthinkable. Though the film's philosophic core isn't exactly groundbreaking, the path it takes to get there is.
Rockwell is the star of the film, and not just because he's pretty much the only actor in it. His uneven speech and tiny mannerisms lend authenticity to his everyman portrayal, and he exhibits a shrewd restraint even as his character discovers things too painful to contemplate. This could be the role that lands Rockwell the kind of mainstream admiration he already holds in cinephile circles. The entire weight of the film is placed on his shoulders, and he delivers the most painfully vivid portrait of loneliness this side of Tom Hanks in Cast Away.
Moon was filmed in just 33 days for just $5 million, and one assumes it wasn't shot on location. However, it's a superb example of how little budget matters in the hands of a competent director, even in genres usually punctuated by nine-figure spectacles. It embraces simplicity as a kind of budgetary jujitsu, turning a financial weakness into an atmospheric strength. It is a film of common ideas, but uncommon grace.
Set in the near-future, Moon takes place exclusively on its namesake. There, a mining worker named Sam Bell (played by his namesake, Sam Rockwell) is finishing up a three-year contract mining Helium-3, which we're told supplies 70% of the earth's energy. His only company is a robot named Gerty (voiced by Kevin Spacey). Gerty seems to possess a near-human level of intelligence, and even empathy, though the film isn't particularly concerned with the ramifications of Artificial Intelligence. All we need to know is that the robots haven't overthrown humanity quite yet.
Sam gets to go home in just two weeks, and goes about his daily routine performing basic maintenance on the Helium-3 harvesters (which he's named after the four Gospels). He passes the time by creating small wooden sculptures and watching family videos sent from home. A problem with a nearby satellite interferes with his live communication feed from Earth so that all messages are accompanied by a significant delay, a fact which heightens his isolation. Sam's lack of direct human contact begins to take its toll; his health devolves and a number of unusual events start to interrupt his routine. He has an accident while transporting fuel from a harvester, and wakes up in the base's infirmary. It becomes clear that something has happened during his blackout, and the secrets behind his assignment start to unfold.
Moon is a better film than it is a story. A remarkable amount of technical skill went into its creation in service of a tale that doesn't always hold together. When the film's central concept reveals itself to the viewer (and to Sam) halfway through its 97-minute runtime, the apparent motivations behind it aren't entirely believable. A major impetus goes unexplained, as well, though Moon is engrossing enough that I find I didn't notice until afterwards. Those focused more on the film's emotional core may not care about any of this, but anyone concerned with loose ends and basic plausibility probably will.
The decision to reveal what's happening to both the audience and Sam so early is bold, and a lesser film would've waited for the third act and made the revelation its centerpiece. Instead, Moon focuses less on what's happened, and more on Sam's evolving reactions to the unthinkable. Though the film's philosophic core isn't exactly groundbreaking, the path it takes to get there is.
Rockwell is the star of the film, and not just because he's pretty much the only actor in it. His uneven speech and tiny mannerisms lend authenticity to his everyman portrayal, and he exhibits a shrewd restraint even as his character discovers things too painful to contemplate. This could be the role that lands Rockwell the kind of mainstream admiration he already holds in cinephile circles. The entire weight of the film is placed on his shoulders, and he delivers the most painfully vivid portrait of loneliness this side of Tom Hanks in Cast Away.
Moon was filmed in just 33 days for just $5 million, and one assumes it wasn't shot on location. However, it's a superb example of how little budget matters in the hands of a competent director, even in genres usually punctuated by nine-figure spectacles. It embraces simplicity as a kind of budgetary jujitsu, turning a financial weakness into an atmospheric strength. It is a film of common ideas, but uncommon grace.