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Why does not this film show that astronaut Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) is planting the American flag on the moon? That was the question that plagued the people of Venice after the creation of First man, Damien Chazelle's downright visceral and deeply empathic look at the Apollo 11 mission that culminated on July 21, 1969, when Armstrong became the first man ever to walk on the lunar surface. The answer lies in the director's approach to the film, which favors men over machine and staff over politics. The stars and stripes take their moment in the sun in the last thrilling moments of the film, of course. But it is not America's First that stimulates Chazelle, as much as the landing on the moon has meant for Armstrong and a global audience that has responded with emotion to the hope inherent in the concept of aspiration to heaven.
So, forget the fictional controversy over flags, which in its context is not controversial at all. Instead, it's better to focus on the abundant factors that make First man not to be missed and unforgettable. There have already been astronaut movies, well (Apollo 13) And better (The good stuff). But few have been so much the triumph of the imagination fueled, not by the FX but by an indelible feeling, like this one.
For Armstrong himself and, by extension, his family, the seven years leading up to the moonwalk were filled with losses, sacrifices and failures – three things we do not think about when we see the 39, traditional image of Armstrong as a heroic icon. First man, tonic adapted by Projector Josh Singer, winner of an Oscar for the excellent book of James R. Hansen, produced in 2005 something fresh, fallible and flesh and blood from his true cosmic pioneer. He was working, of course, but it was a job that could kill him. He knew it; his family knew it, his astronaut comrades knew it. But America blinked, dazzled by the bells and whistles.
Chazelle takes the perceived glamor of space exploration and puts it in a tin can. Literally. That's what the training simulator looks like that catapults Gemini astronauts into space. And things are no less claustrophobic and scary when they come into reality. You feel woozy and alert to vomiting just by looking at it. Imagine how he felt for Armstrong and his Apollo 11 astronaut colleagues Buzz Aldrin (Corey Stoll) and Michael Collins (Lucas Haas). The dangers they faced did not exist. Only the still-living memory of astronauts Ed White (Jason Clarke), Gus Grissom (Shea Whigham) and Roger B. Chaffee (Corey Michael Smith) would explode in the cockpit during preflight tests. first Apollo mission.
Back in the comfort of his home, Armstrong is no stranger to the tragedy. He and his wife, Janet (Claire Foy), had recently lost their young daughter, Karen, to cancer. And now, their two growing sons, Mark and Rick, are facing the possibility that their father may die in space. Always a good NASA soldier, Neil is ready for anything. But coping with the emotional consequences on himself and his family goes beyond him. Gosling digs to capture the courage and grieving heart of a reserved man who does not always know how to express his emotions. His implosive performance bases the film on a touching reality. It was Jan who finally forced her response as husband and father – and Foy is beautiful in that role, telling her husband outright to tell his sons about the dangers of his mission. "I'm done," she says emphatically, not wanting to shoulder the burden alone. (Janet's real life died earlier this year, and the performance is also a beautiful posthumous tribute.) These scenes from home in Houston leave an indelible impact on what's at stake without falling into the manipulative tears. Jan, who is always available to comfort other astronaut spouses, is harder for men wearing a bravery mask. "You're a bunch of guys who make wooden balsa models," she tells engineers and floor leaders. "You do not have no matter what under control!."
Chazelle and Gosling, away from the musical romance of La Land, work admirably to anchor this epic character study into reality no matter how hard it is. Living in a bubble is impossible when the media is constantly pushing for access, government leaders consider the astronaut program a waste of money, and Gil Scott's satirical "Whitey on the Moon" Heron wonders how the race for space can really affect life on Earth. . The film also asks about asking provocative questions at each turn, with answers that are not explained in the script. The mesmerizing images and sounds created by Chazelle's team, including filmmaker Linus Sandgren, editor-in-chief Tom Cross and composer Justin Hurwitz, have everything to enlighten us. For some, the movie may seem too distant or too cold to touch. But the director asks us to take a closer look.
And from the moment Armstrong takes his first steps on the moon, Chazelle's film exists on a plane of the purest mystery. These are not the words uttered by the astronaut for posterity ("a small step for the man, a great step for the man") or the enormity of the mission, nor even global cheers (Chazelle does not include the roar of the crowd) anymore. This could be a simple gesture of the moon walker in the honor of his daughter, or the silent blur of space, or our individual perception of what is hiding above the rainbow. in sky. This ode to Armstrong's films First man with a poet's eye that cherishes the silence that occurs when the dreams you dare to dream come true.
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