Review: On Earth And In Space, "First Man" Soars

It’s late November, which all cinephiles know mean ’tis the season for the slew of Oscar-contending films. A couple weeks ago, some friends and I watched First Man, which was the first of these likely award nominees that I have been able to view. I have not seen many movies in the calendar year of 2018, but I have been batting a pretty impressive average with those that I have: Black Panther, A Quiet Place, and Eighth Grade were all magnificent in very different ways. I’m pleased to report that First Man has only served to continue that trend.

I was drawn to First Man thanks to the film’s cast, director, and terrific trailers, but that excitement was offset somewhat by what I perceived the storyline and the theme would be. It seemed that it would be unapologetic in its Oscar Bait-ness, and wouldn’t necessarily present a story that hasn’t already been told. The rave reviews of critics and friends pushed me to see it in theatres, and good thing too: the hype was warranted.

In many ways, First Man is everything I suspected it would be and yet, not at all what I thought it’d be. This dichotomy was true both as it relates to other films directed by Damien Chazelle, and as it relates to the precedent set by the many other space flicks.

Chazelle has already made a significant impact on cinema’s landscape, despite being just 33 years old and having only two previous full-length motion pictures to his name. Whiplash and La La Land both scored multiple Oscar wins and nominations for Best Picture. The latter, of course, was one of the biggest movies in America back in 2016-17, and notoriously won cinema’s top prize for about 3 minutes. First Man, though clearly different in many ways (we’ll get to that), actually displays several consistencies with these two previous films.

This movie once again centers around a man and his obsessive dedication to being great. Where both of Chazelle’s previous movies dealt with jazz musicians and their drive to be memorable and elite, this one shows the absolute need of Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) to be a successful astronaut, his relentless desire to be a man who walks on the moon. Like Gosling’s character in La La Land and Miles Teller’s protagonist in Whiplash, it becomes increasingly clear that the work he is doing is THE mission in his mind; even if it’s not necessarily the only thing that matters to him, it matters most.

There is also the familiar dynamic of the protagonist’s significant other and how she encourages, hinders, and/or shapes his drive. In this case, it’s Armstrong’s wife Janet, played brilliantly— and without a trace of her native British accent —by Claire Foy, who performs all 3 of those functions. Janet is the one who first signals her approval by encouraging Neil to accept NASA’s offer to be a part of Project Gemini shortly after the tragic passing of their young daughter. Later, after years of watching failed missions and experiencing firsthand the deaths of several astronaut friends, she voices her anger, fear, and even disapproval for her husband’s continued involvement with NASA. Ultimately, Janet leaves an indelible mark on Neil as he leaves Earth. His drive to reach the lunar surface and return safely is fueled by the need to not abandon his wife in the living world. This is evident in the final scene, a beautiful, near-silent interaction between just the two of them.

At the same time, this is so vastly different from Chazelle’s previous works in several ways. The most obvious difference is that the first time, the director took on a true story, and a well-known historical event at that. This inevitably affords him much less creative license than the nature of Whiplash and La La Land did, both with character development but also with facets like set and costume design, or even musical score. Another key difference is that for the first time, he has to spin a story chock full of Science and Math, as opposed to Music and the Arts. Chazelle is always intensely interested in the significance of music, but for the first time, nearly (if not entirely) all the music is non-diagetic. This dynamic does not necessarily manifest itself as a constraint, but rather a noticeable tonal difference.

First Man also both upholds and bucks trends we’ve seen in space movies of yesteryears. Continuity abounds both in thematic content and artistic choices. We see, in the latter half of the film, an Odyssey-like tale of the arduous voyage of a human returning home, a storyline that has played out in nearly all outer space-related movies we are familiar with. Stylistically, too, it all feels familiar: there’s the use of the space as a set, with breathtaking silent shots of Earth, of the Moon, of constellations, reminiscent of such stunning takes in Interstellar. The omnipresent feeling of claustrophobia created by the use of the shaky camera hearkens back to Gravity. And like Apollo 13 before it, First Man documents in great detail the training through and scenes back at the NASA headquarters.

None of the similarities between Chazelle’s film and its space predecessors are demerits, to be fair. I am always a sucker for awe-inspiring, realistic views of Earth from outer space. But it’s First Man’s dissimilarities from others of its kind that really help make this a splendid film. Rather, a singular dissimilarity, that being the emotional backdrop of the story.

It’s not that we’re not used to space films being emotional stories, of course. My misty eyes post-Interstellar and drenched armpits post-Gravity suggest otherwise. But emotion here is personal, not grand. The movie literally begins with the last days of the Armstrongs’ infant daughter Karen, and includes a significant scene of their funeral. Even if the sheer amount of events somewhat takes her out of mind for the audience, Karen stays on the conscience of Neil; this culminates in the most memorable scene of the movie, one I won’t spoil for you, because even though some may call it cheesy, it left me in tears.

It is such potent emotion, not action, that drives this movie. It’s not the grand, overwhelming sentiment of national pride or worldwide audiences that we're used to with Apollo 13 and The Martian. This trickles down to aspects like the score. It’s brilliantly subdued and evocative music from Chazelle’s constant collaborator Justin Hurwitz, nothing like the rock n’ roll or the brass and organ fanfare that you might expect. I feel confident in saying that First Man does more to document the agonizing body count of NASA’s astronauts throughout the multiple failed missions. This clearly involved many of Armstrong’s close friends, only compounding the burden of grief he and his wife already carried with Karen’s death. This pain drives the story; First Man is as much about what this singular event meant to one man and his family as it was about the grand success of and for a country and mankind. In near-unprecedented fashion for a space film, we partake in an emotional catharsis that’s fueled by very real grief rather than action and survival.