In the Shadow of the Moon tells the story of the Apollo moon missions from the perspectives of (some of) the astronauts who flew them. It interweaves present-day interviews with Apollo-era film footage. The astronauts, some of whom are now pushing eighty, seem less reserved, and more reflective, than they have in previous documentaries that I have seen them in. We learn, in the director's commentary track that is included among the extras on the DVD release, that each astronaut was interviewed for the better part of two days. Maybe the longer interview format conduced to a freer, more open, exchange. Then, too, the almost forty years that have passed since these momentous events occurred provide needed perspective, both for the astronauts and for us. The Cold War, which was always the ultimate basis for the space "race," is now well behind us. NASA, although it is still generally well-regarded by the public, has been humbled by two Shuttle tragedies and the continuing lack, since the moon, of a galvanizing goal the public could embrace.
It's worth remembering that when these men joined NASA in the 1960s, Mickey Mantle, revered by a generation of American boys as a paragon of moral and physical perfection, was still an American idol. Only later did we learn that Mr. Mantle was, in fact, an alcoholic, and that his public persona didn't much resemble his private life during those years. Only later,
Ball Four was written, Watergate happened, and so on. We're too wise for this kind of hero worship anymore, aren't we? Or, is it that we're just too
wizened? Because perhaps a measure of hero worship is called for, when we attempt to take the measure of these remarkable men. Those who follow astronaut lore know that becoming an astronaut is a group rite of passage. The word goes forth - "NASA needs astronauts" - and the applications arrive. Many are called, few are chosen. Although the first group of (seven) astronauts who flew the Mercury missions was the most iconic, some cognoscenti believe that the second group of (nine) astronauts may actually have been the better group. Many of the Apollo mission commanders came from this second group but, in fact, each of the first five groups of astronauts had at least one member who flew to the moon.
What shines through in the interviews is the simple humanity, sensitivity, and dedication of these men. Although screen time is not evenly distributed between the men - due, no doubt, to the centrality of Apollo 11 in the film's structure - we do get a chance to know each of them as individuals. The Apollo 11 Commander, Neil Armstrong, rather predictably, didn't participate in the making of this film, although he is seen in the Apollo-era footage. He has always been extraordinarily protective of his privacy. It is left to Armstrong's Apollo 11 crewmates, Mike Collins and Buzz Aldrin, to tell the story of the mission that first landed on the moon. Collins and Aldrin are fascinating men, and yet very different from each other. Collins, to my mind, is the best chronicler among the astronauts. Several years after Apollo 11 he wrote what is still the most highly-praised book that any astronaut has written:
Carrying the Fire. I could listen to him for hours and hardly notice the passage of time - he's that good a storyteller. Aldrin, who has acknowledged battling depression and other demons, is a complex man, and remarkably intelligent. One can see, in his face, some things that don't seem to be present in the other men, and he, in particular, is someone I wish I had the opportunity to know personally.
The film skips over the two missions immediately prior to Apollo 11 with only the barest of mentions (some momentary text appears on the screen). The omission may be defensible, from the film's point of view, but these two missions - Apollo 9 and Apollo 10 - so often get short shrift in films like this, that I feel compelled to at least briefly mention them here. It's true that Apollo 9 didn't go to the moon (it stayed in earth orbit) but it marked the maiden voyage of the Lunar Module, perhaps the pinnacle of Apollo engineering and, arguably, the hardware "star" of the film. Parenthetically, it's worth noting that the critically-acclaimed HBO miniseries about Apollo,
From the Earth to the Moon, which I thought at once slack and overwrought, and generally a mess, positively sparkled only in the episode that dealt with Apollo 9. Apollo 10 was a "trial run" for Apollo 11, in that it did everything Apollo 11 would do, except for descending the last 50,000 feet down to the surface of the moon in the Lunar Module. Crucially, it featured the first lunar-orbit rendezvous. One can argue that these two missions had to be excluded from the film, due to structure and time constraints, but then how is it that there was time enough to include yet another retelling of Apollo 13, a story that has already been definitively told in the movie
Apollo 13? A saving grace is that the extras on the DVD do include a nice section on Apollo 9 and Apollo 10. We get to hear Gene Cernan's wonderful call to Capcom Charlie Duke, as Cernan and Tom Stafford are buzzing along at 3,000 mph, not that far above the lunar craters and mountains, "We is go and we is down among 'em, Charlie!"
But as interesting as the moon is, when experienced close up, it's still a barren, lifeless world. By way of glorious contrast, the earth, when seen from the moon is, in Jim Lovell's memorable words, "a grand oasis in the big vastness of space." The sight of the earth not only mesmerized every Apollo crew that saw it, it was life-altering for many of the astronauts. Incredibly, when the first lunar mission's extensive photographic flight plan was assembled, no one even thought of taking any pictures of the earth from the moon. As Apollo 8 was circling the moon, at the moment when the earth came into view around the lunar horizon, Frank Borman - as buttoned-down and no-nonsense an astronaut as ever suited up - spotted it first. He instantly sounded thirty years younger as he pointed out the awe-inspiring sight to his crewmates, Jim Lovell and Bill Anders. There followed a quick scramble to get the shot, "Hand me that roll of color film, will you - quick!" or words to that effect. Bill Anders snapped the famous photo, which became the paradigmatic image of the Apollo program. The Apollo 8 mission, it should be noted, was superbly documented in an hour-long PBS production in 2005, for the American Experience series, that was titled
Race to the Moon. Interestingly enough, a surprising number of NASA insiders actually consider Apollo 8, rather than Apollo 11, to have been the high-water mark of the Apollo program.
In closing, I think it's a shame that Pete Conrad (Apollo 12 Commander) didn't live long enough to have been a part of this film. Pete died in 1999 as a result of a motorcycle accident. Pete was a prankster, a live wire, and one of the best astronauts ever. Pete Conrad was an original. Even his tombstone says so...
http://providencelc.org/thenoyesfamily/pho...stone_front.JPGAnd the back of his tombstone lists all of his missions...
http://providencelc.org/thenoyesfamily/pho..._stone_rear.JPGOne day, in the not-too-distant future, there won't be any men still alive who went to the moon, and that will be a sad day indeed. But we'll be able to keep these men, and their accomplishments, in our collective memories, in part because of worthy documentaries like this one.
Mike McIntyre