Starring Scarlett Johansson, Channing Tatum, and Woody Harrelson
Distributed by Columbia Pictures
Running time: 131 minutes
Rated PG-13 for strong language and some smoking

When thinking about the characteristics one wants in a partner, “honesty” and “benevolence” are generally high on people’s lists. Somehow, this escaped the creators of the new romantic comedy Fly Me to the Moon, which features the chic but deceitful marketer Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson) and the grumpy, quick-to-anger NASA official Cole Davis (Channing Tatum) who, despite their failings, somehow fall for each other. As one might expect, given their incompatibility and immorality, the portrayal of their romance falls flat and makes the movie, which has the exciting background of the late-1960s space race, a muddled mixture of inspiring moments and morally repugnant characters.

We’re introduced to Kelly, a marketing hotshot, when she persuades Ford executives—who   in hiring a woman—to open an account with her marketing agency. She does so by showing them how to sell a sports car as not just a toy for dad but a car that’s safe for the family. In so doing, however, she pretends to be pregnant and bribes their secretaries to learn what kind of car each of the executives drives so she can craft her pitch around this information.

She’s then hired by a sketchy government official (Woody Harrelson) to win public support for NASA’s Apollo 11 mission, a job she takes on with enthusiasm—and her signature dose of deceit. She continues to be dishonest throughout the entire movie, attempting to fix the biggest error she makes through further lying and sneaking around. She also damns the entire marketing industry, claiming that it’s full of scam artists and liars like herself.

Upon moving to Florida for her new role, she meets Cole, launch director for Apollo 11 and her internal liaison for planning a marketing strategy and understanding how the organization works.1 We learn that Cole was also launch director of the disastrous Apollo 1, which led to the deaths of three astronauts, for which he feels personally responsible. Adding to this emotional baggage are his harrowing experiences as a fighter pilot in the Korean War and his inability to become an astronaut due to a heart condition. Given all that and the pressure placed on him, his flashes of temper are hardly surprising. But because he never opens up about his concerns or tries to deal with them in any constructive way, he just comes off as a jerk who grumps around, trying to get in Kelly’s way and not listening to any of her ideas unless he’s forced to. The contrast is especially striking next to Kelly’s optimism and bubbliness.

The two are utterly incompatible; Cole spends much of the film totally exasperated with Kelly. Nor is she impressed with him, least of all his temper. They find each other physically attractive, which seems to be the basis for their one “date,” in which they go to the beach and spend about one minute chatting before she starts trying to persuade him of her latest marketing idea and he storms off. So, it comes as something of a shock later in the movie when they kiss, and she eventually comes clean to him about her crime-riddled background. But a few kisses and a moment of vulnerability do not a romance make, especially when the two don’t even respect each other morally (nor should they).

Cole seems totally unaware of his moral flaws, whereas Kelly continues knowingly to indulge hers. Neither has the moral character that would form a solid basis for the mutual respect and admiration crucial to long-lasting relationships. The result is that the events of the movie (if not the tone) convey the message: “You can be loved by an attractive, professionally successful person regardless of your moral failings.” It’s as if the movie were made by the Ayn Rand villain James Taggart, who whines, “I don’t want to be loved for anything. I want to be loved for myself—not for anything I do or have or say or think. For myself—not for my body or mind or words or works or actions.” To which his bewildered wife insightfully replies, “But then . . . what is yourself?”2

Kelly and Cole’s “romance” is set against a remarkably inspiring and benevolent backdrop: NASA successfully landing three men on the Moon and bringing them back safely. That’s a huge human achievement that this film properly honors. Several sweet moments come when the Apollo team celebrates or reflects on their work with the satisfaction of knowing they’ve done something heroic. Indeed, the only time Cole is even remotely positive is when he’s giving his team of engineers and technicians a pep talk.

But this exhilarating setting isn’t enough to rescue the movie. The dishonesty and injustice of the characters and the shoddy attempt at a romantic story cause the film to flounder. Some say that you should reach for the Moon, because if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Unfortunately, despite its star power, Fly Me to the Moon fails even to get off the ground.

Some say that you should reach for the Moon, because if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Unfortunately, despite its starpower, Fly Me to the Moon fails even to get off the ground.
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Endnotes

1. “Launch director” is a fictional title; the equivalent position in real life is NASA’s flight director. Eugene Kranz was the flight director on odd-numbered Apollo missions, including developing crucial procedures and providing much-needed leadership during Apollo 11 and Apollo 13; see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gene_Kranz#NASA_career.

2. Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged, Kindle edition (New York: Signet, 1967), 883.

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