Film Review: ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ can’t deliver on the promise of screwball romance

We’ve all heard the theory – the Apollo 11 moon landing was faked and filmed by Stanley Kubrick. “Fly Me to the Moon” dares to ask, what if that were true?

Well, if it were, there’s no way they could have gotten Kubrick. But in “Fly Me to the Moon,” NASA doesn’t need him. The crew of the Apollo 11 fake moon landing film has something much more powerful, much more specialized on their side – a New York marketing executive.

Marketing is at the heart of Greg Berlanti’s space-based romantic comedy, which pits its central couple (Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum) against each other in a battle for the moon landing. Johansson enters the picture as Kelly Jones, a marketing specialist recruited by the government to sell NASA and the Apollo 11 mission to the public – a public increasingly disinterested in the prospect of going to space, and more interested in the issues that plague their everyday lives. Tatum stars as Cole Davis, the uptight launch director who finds Kelly’s job frivolous and is intent on thwarting her at every turn.

It’s a fairly standard set up for this sort of movie – a tried and true formula for romance to bloom. But “Fly Me to the Moon” is less interested in love, and more interested in how myths and images are made and manipulated. If only the movie about movie making had as much interest in its own construction. The film works best when it’s letting the audience feel the pull of public relations, Kelly’s hijinks and strategies for selling NASA shooting for a screwball sensibility. But Johansson can’t carry that energy by herself, and the movie’s pacing, a miscast Tatum, and a romance that falls flat don’t do her any favors.

The first half of the film’s runtime is dedicated to those aforementioned hijinks, as Kelly attempts to woo senators and the public to NASA’s side using all the tools in her arsenal – from Wheaties partnerships to a multitude of bad southern accents. The fake moon landing doesn’t come in until later, pitched as a contingency plan in case something goes wrong with the real thing – and a plan that Kelly must keep a secret from Cole at all costs.

Kelly is billed a professional liar from the moment we first see her on screen. While trying to sell a room of men on the idea of seatbelts in sports cars, she dons a fake pregnant belly and accurately guesses what car each of them drive (she bribed their secretaries for the information). She gives the incredulous men a weary, winking smile when she enters the room, gingerly holding her belly as she takes a seat. Later, she unceremoniously rips it off in the middle of a crowded elevator.

Throughout “Fly Me to the Moon,” Johansson gets the closest to the madcap, screwball vibe the film is going for. The movie’s dialogue and script don’t always support her enthusiasm, and that awkward mix can sometimes make her delivery feel stilted. But still, she tries to hit that Cary Grant/Katharine Hepburn, “Bringing Up Baby” energy the best she can. Unfortunately, Tatum feels woefully miscast as the male part of that equation.

As Cole, Tatum isn’t asked to make use of any of that natural, easy charm that makes him so watchable. Cole, who in the movie’s universe was launch director for Apollo 1 – which ended prematurely with the death of three astronauts – carries a lot of guilt over that mission, his stiffness only sometimes giving way to something a little lighter, a little more in Tatum’s wheelhouse. In a typical 1930s or 40s screwball romance, the man might be resistant to the woman at first because her assertiveness overwhelms his awkward shyness, setting up an obstacle that they can both overcome over time. But for most of the film, Cole seems to actively dislike Kelly and everything she stands for. When Tatum can’t tap into those light, natural charms, bogged down by the severity of his character, the romance doesn’t hit.

When “Fly Me to the Moon” finally gets to its central fake moon landing, it picks up a bit of energy – mainly because the romance is not the central focus, and because Jim Rash can’t help but be hilarious as Lance Vespertine, the “Stanley Kubrick of commercial directors” brought in to make the film. But Berlanti is a true veteran of television, and that background shines through in the film’s visual style. “Fly Me to the Moon” is very sleek, but sterile, and not interesting to look at in the way one would hope a movie about image making would be. For a film about the power of manipulation, “Fly Me to the Moon” doesn’t manage to manipulate you into feeling much of anything.

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