"I want to go home"

Rating: 8/10 (7 August 2009)

Calling a film "the antithesis to Transformers 2" may not seem the most obvious complimentary statement, yet that has, comically enough, been the most common plaudit bestowed on director Duncan Jones' Moon. Most critics have heralded the film as a welcome bout of intelligence in a summer where science fiction is generally synonymous with explosions. Which is entirely true, and would be an unremarkable compliment, were it not for the fact that to distill Moon to simply being an intelligent film released in a season where thoughtfulness is a rare quality in mainstream cinema would be a notable instance of short- sightedness, for Jones' film is a rather remarkable concoction, and one well worth seeing regardless of the season or year.
While the science fiction genre is known for examining the future, Moon, while set 15 years from present time, clearly has its eye on the past. With a wonderfully nostalgic lo-fi veneer, complete with chunky lunar buggies and medical style white walled space station, Jones picks his influences well, paying homage to the wealth of slow burning, existential science fiction ruminations of the 1960s and 1970s (most obviously Kubrik's 2001), both visually and thematically without ever drifting into over the top excessively cheeky referencing. And yet, Moon proves an appealing contradiction, as, despite its lofty, challenging ideas, they are presented in a format far more accessible, unpretentious and easy to follow than most of the past efforts it emulates, as if determined to meld a mainstream template with a more elaborate, art cinema aesthetic. The hybridity works, making Moon far more than a mere throwback film, and a far more beguiling and intriguing take on content both familiar and new.
The word of choice is sparse, as Jones captures the cold isolation of solitary employment on a space station with particularly chilling efficiency, using expansive yet claustrophobia inducing sets to deftly craft a sense of continual unease and discontent, exceptionally amplified by Clint Mansell's minimalist piano score. But what makes Jones' film stand out amongst countless other science fiction efforts with coldly pristine visuals ruminating on the essence and meaning of humanity are its welcome moments of warmth and humour. From the blinking smiley face of robotic companion GERTY (superbly voiced by a monotone Kevin Spacey) to protagonist Sam Bell's teary fondling the screen while playing a tape of his daughter back on earth, seldom do such films dare to engage with the heart as much as the brain - less detached and far more engrossing through its emotional resonance.
Above all else, it is the exceptional performance of Sam Rockwell which anchors the film. Stuck with essentially a solitary show in a static location, Rockwell delivers a triumphant character study without unnecessary showboating, compellingly portraying Bell's intense loneliness, boredom and gradual mental instability through perfectly calculated frantic bursts between manic energy and subdued pain. Never anything less than riveting while quietly unassuming, the always wonderful Rockwell has rarely been better, and his work here proves concrete testament of his star calibre charisma and presence.
Thought provoking yet accessible, slow burning yet consistently engaging, Moon proves the ideal reprocessing of the science fiction of old, blending familiar visuals and themes with recent ones into something fundamentally new. While it may not quite be profound or innovative enough to mark a new staple in the genre, Moon marks a large step for the contemporary relevance of science fiction, being easily worth examining for those seeking out intelligent life in the dark recesses of modern cinema.
-8.5/10