Houston, we have a problem.
Who is this mishmash for? What is it for? A counterfactual romcom set against the lunar landing, Fly Me to the Moon pitches tough advertising broad Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson) against strait-laced mission commander Cole Davis (Channing Tatum).
She has been recruited by shadowy Nixon apparatchik Moe Burkus (scene-stealing Woody Harrelson) to sell the Apollo 11 mission to Congress and the American public. That means product placement for cars, watches and bacon, and a backup plan to recreate the moon landing on a sound stage. Cue risible references to Stanley Kubrick and the arrival of a flamboyantly limp-wristed director (Jim Rash.)
Elsewhere, Cole, the “hero” of 52 flight missions over Korea, broods over the casualties of Apollo 1.
On paper, it’s a fine idea. Two movie stars who might have been A-listers during the Mad Men era bringing old-school Hollywood chemistry to a screwball set-up. In practice, the dialogue fails to launch, no matter how good the cast looks in tight turtlenecks and pencil skirts. Mary Zophres’s exemplary costume designs ultimately outshine the star wattage.
Sleek as it is, Greg Berlanti’s muddled movie remains lopsided. The fluffier rendition of the events depicted in First Man and elsewhere – replete with a cuddly, avuncular turn by Ray Romano – overshadows the fun and games.
The fist-pumping final scenes of Armstrong and Aldrin on the moon feel unearned in a film that reduces the astronauts to cameo appearances. A comic subplot based around a black cat adds another incongruous note. Daniel Pemberton’s score similarly can’t decide between interesting, edgy electronica and predictable big strings.
This underpowered, $100-million-budgeted space oddity was originally intended for streaming. And it shows.
