Moon (2009)

Austere comes to mind when describing Duncan Jones’ directorial debut. The son of famed glam rocker David Bowie {yes, that’s why I queued it}, Jones’ aesthetic is a functional, cold, and perfectly claustrophobic setting for Sam Bell (a superb Sam Rockwell), a contracted astronaut with Lunar Industries.

Sam’s lonely three-year stint on the moon base is about up when he begins to see things. He enlists the help of his only companion, a robot named Gerty, to discover what is real.

Despite my faulty reasoning for seeing it, Moon is a fresh, remarkable bit of science fiction very much—though I hate to say this—in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey sans the tweaking. Sam Rockwell carries this film, cultivating a feeling of isolation, anxiety, and confusion.

I hesitate to say more, but the success of this film depends on the interaction with the viewer. The styled production does a lot to create the setting for insanity. The moon base Sarang looks like something from Unhappy Hipsters with its cold expansive bays. Think I’d go crazy too if every meal must originate from a compartmental Styrofoam tray and nothing filled my days by model making.

All details aside, it’s Rockwell’s Sam that makes Moon engaging. We care for him, but most importantly we don’t want to be him—isolated from society and left to our own devices. And just so you don’t think I’m too stuck-up, there are a few glaring goofs that interject unintentional humor. Helping to ground the art herein, I think.

As I see it, Moon, despite several references to Kubrick’s classic, stands on its own. The combination of Jones and Rockwell delivers a quiet memorable piece of sci-fi that demands more from its audience that most.