Half a century ago, a guy from Ohio managed to land a tin
can on a plain a quarter of a million miles away. Entirely by eye, assisted by
computers that put together would be outclassed by an obsolete iPhone, by a
rocket designed with slide rules and pencil.
One day, we might just top that. But in the meantime, let's
look at the footage that captivated a planet back then, and muse about this
little event from a time when America was divided still, but at least gas was
cheaper. Perhaps you were there. Perhaps you were born in decades since but
played with Saturn 5 toys and wondered about going yourself. Either way, let's
have a look back at '69—and by what better means, than the documentary
delivered by director Todd Douglas Miller, aptly named Apollo 11.
The film consists entirely of archival footage—there’s no
patronizing narration as some other documentaries insist on, only the recorded words
of the astronauts, NASA controllers, and journalists of the time. The initial
segment shows the citizenry of ’69 gathering to watch the launch—and on a
big-scale screen as I watched on, the level of restoration is damn incredible.
As in, looking almost contemporary incredible. I felt immersed into the
excitement and spirit of that time—and it also nicely highlights that despite
the gap of half a century, many things remained the same. Where today millions would
have their smartphones pointed at the launch, the American people of the
sixties bought out their Super 8s and Canon cameras en masse.
After that, the film only gives what context beyond the
restored footage it needs—namely infographics showing each stage of the launch
and mission. The quality jumps around a bit—understandable, considering a fair
amount of it was filmed in high orbit and transmitted over tens of thousands of
miles. Nevertheless, every spectacular shot, every image to highlight the scale
of what was done, is given the best treatment they can muster, and when you see
the distant Eagle module imposed over the rolling expanse of the lunar surface,
you damn well be watching it on the largest canvas or screen possible.
Even the landing itself is given some new context and shots
you may not have seen—be it a perspective from the top of the lander of
Armstrong emerging, to recordings of the descent confirming that yes, the odd colorful
bit of language was dropped by these pioneers. In space, everyone can still
hear you call someone an asshole.
Ultimately, on pure visuals alone, the film paints a picture
that united the world back then and perhaps in the future, might do so again.
Certain cynical types might insist the whole thing was staged—in the process
usually betraying their ignorance of science and filmmaking itself—but the
incredible footage here, not just from the moon itself but of the inky void between
and the travel across it, will defy any doubt of those yet in the middle. And
anyway, as we all knew, even if it had been staged, the only filmmaker remotely
capable of it at the time, namely Kubrick, would’ve insisted on going to the
moon to do it properly anyway.
Yes, this event has been touched on cinematically before, be
it in the visually stunning but emotionally mixed First Man, or in the aforementioned
Kubrick’s masterpiece 2001, which extrapolated sixties optimism to project moon
colonies by the far future of the Bush years (I also personally recommend the
excellently shot Tom Hanks piece Apollo 13, which showcased the awesome ingenuity
of old-school NASA). Unfortunately, the emotions generated by the Apollo
landings didn’t last, and we can only be left to wonder. But in the ninety-odd
minutes of this film, we can at least remember what it may have felt like.
Give it a watch if you can, be it in the largest venue
possible or on the biggest monitor you can find, and who knows, one day, we’ll
live this ride for real once more.
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