In my continuing quest to appeal to no one, this weekend I decided to skip Harry Potter Makes So Much Money the Rest of Us Have to Use Seashells for Currency in favor of a semi-indie sci-fi movie that's already been out here a couple weeks.
In my defense, all I know about Harry Potter is that everyone's been counting down the days til its jailbait leads reach legality since about the second movie, so I feel like I'd be behind on a few crucial details, such as a) who is anyone and b) why is the guy with the beard looking at Harry that way. I'm also the kind of nerd purist who gets helplessly exasperated when any fantasy series is longer than Lord of the Rings. Those badasses saved the entire damn world in three books, jerks. You really need to burn six volumes establishing who the real bad guy is?
Thus, I leave the critical dissection of Half-Blood Prince to the capable hands of everyone with an opinion that can be expressed in 140 characters or less. Besides, it'll still be in theaters when J.K. Rowling has moved on to young adult cat murder mysteries. Moon might not be around much longer, and it turns out it's more than worth seeing.
Sam Rockwell is the only crewman on the moon base that mines the fuel that provides 70 percent of Earth's power. Two weeks out from finishing his three-year contract and returning to his wife and daughter -- his only company all this time has been a robot named GERTY -- he starts having hallucinations.
One of the visions causes him to crash his rover and badly injure himself. When he recovers enough to walk again, he soon discovers he's not alone.
I've always loved sci-fi because you can do all the things a regular book or movie can, only also with robots and maybe a talking dog. But not all sci-fi movies are one long string of mountain-sized battleships exploding in tremendous space-kablooeys; others such as 2001 and Solaris use space and technology to explore the psychology of solitude and human fragility. You know, to be boring.
But the brilliance of those movies is despite the fact if you were to write them a letter it would start "Dear stuff: Please happen," they're also hypnotically compelling. Moon follows suit, burning its first act on the quotidian routine of Rockwell's job, a dull existence that leaves him hundreds of hours to carve models and get beaten by robots at board games.
It's not immediately clear where this is going. In the meantime, Moon gets by on some stunning lunar landscapes and the strength of Sam Rockwell, who's so great here and in general that we should all set aside one day a year to wear Sam Rockwell masks and drink his favorite drink, which is probably Everclear mixed with bear blood and garnished with a lit M-80.
Once the premise kicks in, Rockwell's quiet isolation immediately becomes creepy, arresting, perverse. First-time director Duncan Jones handles Rockwell's increasing desperation with that weird combination of surprises and inexorable logic that you only seem to find in the best sci-fi and horror films. (Without going too deep into details -- they wouldn't exactly be spoilers, since they comprise the bulk of the plot, but part of Moon's appeal is the careful way it doles out the details of its disturbing story -- Rockwell learns he likely only has a few days left to live.)
After coming to like Rockwell's sweet, slightly addled character, it's impossible not to be sucked in to the gross psychology of his fate. Moon is that rare and excellent piece of science fiction where the emotional arc is just as important as the science. With a brilliant lead and a masterful plot progression, it's not just a great genre movie, it's one of the year's best.
Grade: A-