Whenever I walk into my local comics store, I always make sure there are no other places I need to be for the next forty five minutes upon entering. I go to the new releases shelf, pick up my books, try a new one, approach the counter…  And it begins. The ensuing dialogue with the guy behind the counter is not a habit, it is a ritual. I know that I am going to rant and rave about the canon regarding The Skrull Invasion, or Cylons… For forty five minutes. On message boards, time is not measured, and back and forth is awkwardly partial and indirect, yet even in a suburb’s comics store, I walk out knowing I turned all the fake worlds I love upside down. And that is how I learned about Moon.

Moon is a true sci fi ark, taking two each of every compelling genre element since Mary Shelley and, well, turns those fake worlds upside down. Make no mistake, the pristine shin level walls of the Lunar Corporation, the dug out rover parking garage, and menacing antenna spires are worlds in and of themselves. Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell) works for the Lunar Corporation on a three year contract, harvesting a macguffin-ish energy source on the dark side of the moon that has effectively solved the Earth’s energy crisis by the middle of the 21^st century. Sam’s position is more janitorial than the loftier vocation of astronaut, as most of the actual labour is carried out by sophisticated AI and robot combines… Which also means he is all alone save for a serene robotic nanny named ‘GERDY’ (voiced by Kevin Spacey).  Rest assured, it all looks fantastic; the hallways of Sam’s living space are astonishingly designed, timelessly sleek, yet a truly dreamy expression of today’s modernity. It is filmed in much the same way Ridley Scott depicted The Nostromo in Alien; all encompassing wide shots, crawling with such astronomical curiosity; floating in space. It works very well in Moon, and it is warming to have a dolly motivated filming style, rather than fashionable hand held kaleidoscopes. Moon is, above all, romantic in method; it’s images move with such careful dexterity, and yet sweep gently across the screen. Regardless of the saturated and gratifying design, it is not a light film. As the exposition (which is, admittedly, slightly clunky) gets itself out of the way, Sam is plagued by consistent hallucinations (as a result of three years of isolation?) as he is finishing up his tour of duty. This premise was delivered to me by the man behind the glass counter (with some awesome Yuffie Kisaragi statuettes in the display) in that faithful comics shop. Obviously I ask, “Then what?” In response, a smirk breaks out across his face, you know, the one that is only the result of joyously geeky elation. He follows by telling me, “He finds himself.”

Sure enough, the ensuing events demand a lot from Sam Rockwell, and he fully capitalizes on his unique skill as an actor. His comic timing flawlessly meshes with a rhythmic dramatic urgency. He is a conventional man, facing in true sci fi fashion, impossible scenarios; the difference here being, this is the first time I have ever felt that a character’s response was logical and even emotionally water tight in this milieu. There is no melodrama here; there is only the conscious and survivalist mind of Sam Bell processing each mind fuck, attacking it, and moving on… Rockwell sells a pitch perfect rendition of a goal oriented hermit, rejecting savagery, defying lunacy. At Sam’s side is the aforementioned GERDY, a mix of HAL 9000, emoticons, and a LEGO contraption. At first, they both comfortably fit into their respective sci fi archetypes; one can form a few opinions on the outset of viewing the dynamic between these characters, but I will say that not only does this narrative alchemy aggressively dissolve all possible cliches in it’s path, it feels right for the characters. The film’s story moves like a proscenium arch, introducing new movements that are entirely orchestrated by the key players; we learn with Sam, we discover by standing cautiously behind as he rappels into the secret antechambers of this world.

Moon achieves what few films this year have been able to do with such a technically astounding backdrop; it delivers ideas at a thorough pace, building layers of allegory with a masterful elegance. From beginning to end, I was attaching together various concepts of identity; Sam is alone, views himself objectively at many times throughout the film; much like I communicate with a majority of people through elaborate wording and carefully timed emoticons over the internet. At all times, there is the belief that there is another truer human being behind the text, the monitor and keyboard, the skin and muscles… This film asks, is there? My association with the events on screen being an allusion to internet social forums may be mine alone, but this is a story of people defending their identity, not questioning it.

The oft mentioned yet criminally redundant fact that this film’s director is the son of David Bowie instantly becomes irrelevant when the competence and boldness of filmmaking washes over upon the opening credits; Duncan Jones (pre-christened as Zowie Bowie and prolific director of various commercial media- Moon is his first feature) delivers a classic of the genre, and doubtlessly one of the best of this decade. His vision brings a lens devoid of commercial cynicism; his Moon, his lunar surface is one that drawn by tracks of rovers, the ancient shadows of craters, and horizons hollow with silence. He and Nathan Parker submit a script that unfolds layer after ideological layer and never devolves into an intellectual treatise, constantly remaining dead set on moving Sam towards his purpose. And there is heartbreak and conviction along the way. The choice to use Clint Mansell as composer is another stoke of genius; piano swells and Mogwai inspired ambiance (Mansell has collaborated with the Scots before) brings a vastness to our moon, coloring in the corners of grey vistas. His score is another collection of emotional convictions, ballads for human beings on the frontier of experience. The moon is it’s own world here, offered to it’s audience as something familiar but not meant to live with. Yes, this is a grand film, a classic even. The film rattles around in the mind upon leaving the theater, eventually escaping out of a smile in a comic book store.

(8.5/10)