"First Man" review

A First Class Flight 

I was born on July 20^th, 1969, and as my feet touched the Earth for the first time in a hospital room in Southern California, so too did Neil Armstrong take his first steps onto the surface of the Moon.  Not surprisingly, I’m heavily biased when it comes to my appreciation of space exploration and all of NASA’s stellar accomplishments in the decades since that history-defining moment.  Despite how auspicious both events were (for very different reasons) Neil’s journey was much more perilous than mine!

Still, it is incredibly ironic that so much sacrifice should finally result is a perfect touchdown of the Eagle lander in the Sea of Tranquility!  I fully acknowledge the difficulty of contextualizing the motivations of the Apollo program within the fractious political tensions of the time, and one could easily and endlessly debate the merits of the various catalysts that launched so many men and machines into the last great frontier, but for me this does not lessen the magnificence of Apollo’s culminating achievement.

But why tell this story again?  There have been so many dramatic films and documentaries through the years that have thoroughly examined the vast and complex history of American space flight.  What pieces could still be missing from this puzzle?  The answer is obvious to an aficionado like me: the personal stories of the men and women involved and how the immense pressure from the maelstrom of world political debate affected them and their families, especially given the ever-present mortal impact if a mission should go awry.

I’ve not seen any of Damien Chazelle’s other films, but what most excited me about “First Man” was this young director’s decision to frame the story so that the experience of watching the film occurs mostly from the perspective of Neil Armstrong.  Through every training test, every launch and every escape from a seeming certain death, you are inside the vehicle with Neil.  As the metal creaks and the vehicle shakes to the point where it seems everything might suddenly disintegrate, you are shoulder to shoulder with him.  The film is an utterly immersive and at times harrowing experience that is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

But what about the wives?  They didn’t have this unique experience, and their knowledge of what their husbands were going through came mostly through radio or television broadcasts as they were not allowed in Mission Control or anywhere near where their husbands were risking their lives.  I cannot imagine the stress that this would place on any relationship, especially in an era where introspection and emotional vulnerability were NOT looked upon as ideal characteristics for men or women.  Regardless of the weight of your pain, you were expected to carry it without utterance.

Talk about pressure!  And enduring all of this while trying to survive piloting yet another newly minted machine that had hardly been tested much less fully de-bugged!  I get stressed just thinking about it, and yet these men repeatedly cued up for the death-defying challenge while their wives bore the burden of waiting and hoping to never get that one phone call that would shatter their lives and families forever.  Those calls happened often during the years leading up to and after the Moon landing, and Claire Foy as Neil Armstrong’s wife Janet does a superlative job of presenting a woman who truly loves her husband but is deeply conflicted about his career path.

I’ve never been a big fan of Ryan Gosling, as he usually presents a placid façade beneath which roils potentially deep and turbulent waters.  For me, this gets repetitive quickly, but it makes Gosling a superb choice to play Neil Armstrong.  Neil was a very quiet and reserved man who spoke almost curtly and instead let his actions do the talking.  It is a welcome addition to this film that Gosling’s performance includes a few scenes in which he displays heartbreaking sorrow.  It makes his character seem much less robotic and more sympathetic.

The final mission to the Moon is a white-knuckle descent into beautiful desolation.  Again, the camera is rooted inside the vehicle, placing you directly alongside the characters.  You effectively become another crew member, watching in mounting anticipation and dread, fervently hoping for success against the seemingly illimitable odds.  The entire lunar sequence is nearly silent, and the lack of musical fanfare allows the enormity of this penultimate moment to breathe and deeply resonate within.  I’m always SO grateful when filmmakers understand the power of silence.

If only more audiences did, but that’s a rant for another time!