IIFF 2007—FIRST ON THE MOON review

Beginning with the fate of the first cosmonaut, the film backtracks and follows the recruitment process by way of a training reel on the use of spy cameras (small enough to fit inside comically large briefcases). Once selected, the team of trainees—including a female gymnast, a factory worker, and dwarf circus performer—slog through physically rigorous preparations together and capture the public imagination, even inspiring a beautifully-rendered stop-motion animation sci-fi film. Eventually one team member is selected and launched, successfully, decades before other countries would even consider entering the space race. Upon his triumphant return, he makes his way back to mother Russia only to be shuttered in an asylum by the government.

There’s more to filmmaker Alexei Fedorchenko’s vision than simply aping documentary form; First on the Moon swipes effectively at the overall Soviet myth. The aggressively applied shrouds of secrecy to the specifics of the planned space shot, the calculated silencing of those who participated, the meticulous documentation of the entire enterprise for seemingly no purpose other than a record of achievement never meant to be seen again—the tragic riddles and failings of the Communist system as enacted by Stalin and Co. are clearly pinged by Fedorchenko. Over-the-top idealism reigns in the footage, even as it’s undermined by occasional narration which lays bear the chilling fates of those involved.

The film also twists itself into a new mutation of genre, a sort of historical mash-up (in this case mixing forms as diverse as documentary, science fiction, and propaganda). With most of the footage in the film brand new and meant to appear as though it was shot at different times, on different stocks, with different cameras, Fedorchenko lets loose a resourceful barrage of subtle effects to distinguish clips, tying everything together with a contrasting score that frequently incorporates elements of atonal composition and electronica. Highlights of the picture’s historical façade include a dynamic sequence in a foundry where the lunar capsule is crafted (framed in long tracks and abstract close-ups of machining at work) and the stop-motion film (caught up in the conceptual high-jinx, I found myself wishing someone would re-release it before remembering it was just a cog in Fedorchenko’s elaborate prank).

A strange film by any account, First on the Moon should still appeal to fans of faux-doc, science fiction, and Russian cinema (especially admirers of the old masters, as Fedorchenko astutely channels their visions). Frequently stunning to look at and never anything less than surprising, the film manages to wrap you up in its imagined history effectively enough that it’s easy to come out asking, “What if…?”, which would seem to land it with the best sort of speculative fiction.