Amid a heated election cycle rife with partisan skirmishes over policy and ideology, the 55th anniversary of Apollo 11 quietly passed last month. The moon landing anniversary and NASA’s recent announcement of the Artemis II mission, a bold initiative to return to the lunar surface within two years, serve as powerful reminders of what the United States can achieve when united by a common goal.
Against this backdrop, Damien Chazelle’s 2018 film First Man stands as a meticulous and deeply personal chronicle of astronaut Neil Armstrong’s (Ryan Gosling) and, more broadly, the U.S.'s journey to the moon. Known for his unique directorial style, Chazelle blends an acute focus on ambition and sacrifice with a visually arresting and emotionally resonant narrative, which is well worth revisiting.
Despite the initial indignation spawned by the news that the film omitted the scene wherein the American flag was planted on lunar soil, First Man is a two-hour paean to American achievement and its superiority over the Soviet bloc. It is a conservative and patriotic ballad that underscores the importance of the ideological war that made up the backdrop of the space race: Individualism against collectivism and communism.
In a striking scene, socialist activist and writer Kurt Vonnegut pleads to redirect NASA’s funding to urban centers such as New York City. Similarly, communist poet Gil Scott-Heron recites “Whitey on the Moon,” lamenting the cost of space exploration as a gratuitous indulgence while poverty persists throughout most cities.
These scenes perfectly encapsulate Western leftism’s resistance to grand achievements, portraying its myopic view that inequality must be tackled and overcome at all costs and that the Western world’s drive for progress is the inherent cause of inequality both domestically and abroad. It was this penchant that drove the Rosenbergs to sell the Soviets nuclear secrets. The decision in First Man is clear-cut: Reach for the stars or fall behind, mired in mediocrity.
Beyond the political chess match that defined the Gemini and Apollo missions, the film also delves into the personal lives of its characters. In his 1979 book, The Right Stuff, author Tom Wolfe expounded upon these pilots’ unassuming demeanors, “None of them boasted of their own heroism. None spoke of themselves as 'brilliant, daring, and invincible,'” a description aptly encapsulated by Gosling in his portrayal of Armstrong. He never saw himself as a hero or a celebrity. He was an ordinary civilian with the ambition to achieve an extraordinary goal.
Claire Foy, perfectly cast as Armstrong’s wife, Janet, brings to life the mounting stress and emotional toll of being married to an astronaut. Numerous scenes depict Armstrong enjoying time off with his family before he's interrupted by a call informing him that another group of his astronaut friends has perished in a tragic flight accident. While Neil Armstrong maintains an emotionally stoic countenance, Janet Armstrong bears much of the emotional burden. Foy’s portrayal highlights the strength and resilience required to support a spouse in such a perilous profession and adds a layer of depth that sets First Man apart from other space biopics.
The film excels in depicting the tensions inherent in a man’s pursuit of greatness while being tethered to family obligations. Neil Armstrong’s family life, especially the haunting presence of his deceased daughter, grounds him and simultaneously drives him to achieve the impossible. This duality becomes his purpose and makes the narrative deeply resonant. However, this drive also made him aloof at times, which is captured in scenes such as a press conference prior to launch where the astronauts are asked what extra thing they would take to space if they could. While Buzz Aldrin (Corey Stoll) romantically says he’d take his wife’s jewelry to the moon, Neil Armstrong, ever the pragmatist, replies that if he could take anything, he’d take more fuel.
Having presided over such musical successes as La La Land and Whiplash, Chazelle demonstrates not only his expertise in using music and sound but also his profound understanding of the impact of silence. The film’s most compelling moments are its quietest. When the lunar module first touches down on the moon, the scene is dead silent. This vivid shot of the desolate lunar landscape that is devoid of any sound puts the viewer right in Neil Armstrong’s shoes and creates a visceral, almost surreal experience.
In the closing montage, we see the televised moon landing that occurred seven years after former President John F. Kennedy declared that we choose to strive for such greatness not because it is easy but because it is hard. This powerful sequence underscores the triumph of the U.S. over the Soviets and illustrates that true greatness is defined by achieving monumental feats.
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It also prompts reflection on the spirit of ambition and the motivation to pursue such lofty goals. In today's world, how do we justify such monumental undertakings? Although private enterprise has made significant strides in advancing aerospace and artificial intelligence, there is no culturally unifying goal comparable to the space race.
First Man captures the essence of pushing beyond known limits, echoing the sentiments described in The Right Stuff. It is not just about a man and his family but also about the relentless pursuit of greatness. It offers a realistic and tangible portrayal of this extraordinary chapter in human history. The visuals are stunning, and the sound design leaves a lasting impression. First Man stands as a timely reminder of the extraordinary feats the American spirit can achieve when united under a common banner.
Harry Khachatrian ( @Harry1T6 ) is a film critic for the Washington Examiner’s Beltway Confidential blog and a computer engineer in Toronto, pursuing his MBA.
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