First Man

The only thing I know about space is ‘my very easy method just shows us nine planets.’ Given I’m often accused of having my head in the clouds, I have zero interest in what happens above me. I blame my science teachers. They weren’t bad teachers, but they weren’t inspiring ones either. I have no recollection of them showing any enthusiasm for the topic at all. When it came to the school of presentation, they were less Michael McIntyre, more Jack Dee: we were impositions on their time, obligations to be endured. In my science GCSE I got a good mark, but this was through memorising a revision guide, not because I had any actual understanding of the subject. My big fear as a teacher is my students will leave school and never read a book again. (I think the ultimate index for measuring my quality as a teacher is whether school leavers scour through a hotel bookcase or not? If they do, then I did a decent job. If they don’t, then my practice should be called into question.)

This year I listened to ‘Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino’ by Arctic Monkeys. The record is a concept album: taking place on the moon, its story consists of a fictitious band playing for guests at a space hotel. Being a huge fan of lyricist Alex Turner, I did some homework and discovered that Tranquility Base is the site on the moon where humans landed and walked on for the first time. My interest was a little piqued and I re-watched the moon landing again as a result.

This week I went to see First Man which tells the story of said moon landing, focusing on the leader of that mission, Neil Armstrong. I have seen space movies before – Gravity, Apollo 13 and Moon - and they’ve always left me a little cold. This one though I was excited about because it’s by Damien Chazelle and Justin Hurwitz, the pair behind Whiplash and La La Land. I talk about them as a pair because along with Christopher Nolan and Hans Zimmer, their movies wouldn’t work without the other. Chazelle’s movies have always had music at front and centre, with his first two having jazz musicians as lead characters. Chazelle has the eye; Hurwitz the ear. The latter's scores have been both muscular and propulsive (Whiplash) and melancholic and romantic (La La Land).

Their previous work is rooted down on the ground in the tarmac of small town America, featuring aspirant characters who look up to the stars and get disappointed when they don't look back. How then were they going to make a film about an all-American hero who aimed for the stars and hit the moon? If their stock in trade was creative underdogs, how were they going to create a film about a renowned victor without it descending into bland patriotism?

The first thing I should say is despite being more ambitious in scope than Whiplash, the themes and concerns aren’t so different. First Man, like Chazelle’s other features, is about obsession. Whiplash was about going to wild extremes to perfect drumming; La La Land was about the emotional sacrifice that comes from an individual pursuit; and First Man is no different. It’s a movie about commitment and the cost of it to the individual and their loved ones.

La La Land (left) and Whiplash (right)

It begins in 1961 where Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling), a test pilot for NASA, runs into some trouble. The rocket plane inadvertently bounces off the atmosphere, meaning the mission must be aborted - our hero must face the consequences. This remember is a time of space race where the Soviets and Americans were locked in brinkmanship, each trying to outdo the other without causing all-out-war. Essentially, space programmes were multi-billion dick swinging enterprises. Any failure would leave a nation feeling limp and emasculated; any success would give them a raging hard-on that would last for Viagra days. So Armstrong is not the flavour of the month at the beginning, in fact, his failure leads to him being grounded.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in Armstrong’s home is heavy. His daughter has a brain tumour that shows no signs of abating. Despite the research he does, there appears to be no way of decelerating the effects. These intimate moments at home, shot up close on jerky cam, are deeply profound. We see a father powerless to prevent his daughter’s demise. At the subsequent wake we experience heartbreak as Armstrong shuffles off into an empty room to be alone with his tears. Gosling is often accused of being blank and dead-eyed in his roles; here though he emotes, the glacier melts, the result is deeply moving.

Thinking deeply or looking vacant?

This is not the Ryan Gosling show though. Claire Foy plays Neil’s wife, Janet, and through her we appreciate the fallout of masculine repression. Armstrong doesn’t talk about his feelings with anyone – his feelings are as inaccessible as the moon. He’s still a loving husband and father, but he’s distant and struggles to connect. This disconnect makes him more and more obsessed about landing on the moon. Back on the programme, relocated to Houston, he stands in his garden, binoculars in hand, and stares wistfully into space, imagining being there than here. It begs the question: can one only accept the dangers of space if they don’t feel the comfort of earth?

I didn’t mention Hurwitz at the beginning of the piece and have neglected to mention him since. The soundscape of the film was inspired by a 1947 piece, Lunar Rhapsody, by Harry Revel with theremin player Dr. Samuel J. Hoffman. The composition was an Armstrong favourite that he played on Apollo 11. It’s the sound of a slow dance between earthling and alien, piano and theremin; a lifting off of an old jazz number into the cosmos, a human walking into space. This song features along with Hurwitz’s only masterly compositions. Up until the end, the music is mood, punctuating the small and big dramas on earth; the final number ‘Landing’ though has all the gravitas of a history-defining event. Just as Chazelle proves he can leave his independent Whiplash roots behind, Hurwitz demonstrates how-should he wish- he can throw the whole Hans Zimmer at the screen.

On the way home I asked The Girl so many questions: ‘What happened to Michael Collins?’ ‘Did Neil Armstrong go into space again?’ ‘How big is the moon?’ ‘How big is the Earth in comparison?’ She answered all of my questions with good grace, and as a primary school teacher promised to bring me home a book so I could learn more. (This will still be above my level). So what years of secondary education couldn’t achieve, a film did. Science is more interesting if you hear about the human first, isn’t it? That’s the angle teachers should go for. I’ll happily learn about evolution if someone told me about Darwin first? Maybe how he grew that beard? I’ll be fascinated by Newton if someone told me what brand of apple fell on him? Show me the person first; the science after – it’s what First Man did, and now my head’s in the moon as well as the clouds.

First Man is in cinemas now