Arriving on screen without the BBFC certificate card Todd Douglas Miller’s Apollo 11 thrusts the viewer immediately into the proceedings of an Apollo mission launch as the enormous caterpillar tracks of the Mobile Launch Platform clank noisily from the vehicle assembly building towards its destination. The giant vehicle, moving at 1mph on it’s six hour crawl is awe inspiring and, rendered in excellently remastered footage, with surround sound capturing all of its mechanical might, it is an opening gambit which immerses you in the era and in the compelling ritual of Nasa’s space programme. This cold opening not only provides a sensory feast, but also adequately outlines Miller’s intentions for this documentary. This is going to be a visceral cinematic experience, not just a re-telling of an event.
Apollo 11 is an epic document of the mission to land a man on the moon, which has cleverly avoided the clumsy persuasive techniques of voiceover, or potentially overblown convention of talking head interviews; instead opting exclusively for archival material (painstakingly sifted by archivist Stephen Slater – an unsung hero of this documentary process). This decision is a triumph of restraint, especially when considering the mythic and hyperbolic subject matter it is dealing with. Miller and Slater have worked through over 18000 hours of audio recordings from NASA and probably an equal amount of stock film footage from private collections and news footage, to condense the 8-day mission into a thrilling 90 minutes.
It must be said that this decision to rely on archive material and lean heavily on recordings of NASA transmissions is hardly original to me, as I am a fan of Public Service Broadcasting’s 2015 album ‘The Race For Space’, which also relies on NASA recordings. Both PSB and Todd Douglas Miller find something so evocative in the rhythm, unassuming poetics and level headedness of the language that they allow the recordings to speak for themselves as storytelling devices.
If Apollo 11 is a three-act structure, it goes as follows: 1- preparation culminating in the launch of the Saturn 5 rocket (with detachment of the Apollo module), 2- the landing on the moon with the lunar lander’s rendezvous with the orbiter and finally, 3- the return to earth. Although it is fair to say that there are about five set pieces of nail-biting tension for the audience to get their teeth into. The first act’s focus on preparations, of both NASA and of the gathering public to bid the men farewell, is a compelling montage of '60's Americana reminiscent of the Amity scenes of Jaws, as crowds gather in the summer sunshine to watch the launch. The footage is so spectacularly restored that I felt as if I could reach out and shake the hands of Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins, or share a beer with the onlookers. When Armstrong glances at the camera it is in such focus that there is something uncanny about it. The footage is wonderfully edited by Miller and rendered hyperreal by the extraordinarily immersive sound design by Eric Milano and his team. I was particularly impressed by some of the best split screen editing I have seen in years.
The first 15 minutes are gripping, but what follows is so overwhelming that after the launch sequence I found that I had to adjust my seating position and focus on my breathing because my chest had tightened up to panic inducing contractions. There are sequences in this film that truly hold you in its grasp, as though you too are suspended in space, frozen in this moment of history as you lean in, mouth agape and unwilling to blink. Notably the landing and relaunch from the moon to return to the orbiter are incredibly tense, and they serve as bookends to Miller’s real masterstroke: The moonwalk. Armstrong and Aldrin’s "giant leap for mankind" is such a seminal moment in the history of our species that any attempt to make it seem amazing on screen would be false and full of artificiality, so instead Miller focuses on the mundanity of their time on the rock as they go about setting up science equipment or collecting samples. This makes the men more like hard-working blue-collar men and less like cowboy adventurers, whilst the lack of hyperbole on the moon reinforces the perilous moments of their space flights. The distinct lack of pomp and ceremony afforded to the two moonwalkers is a continued theme of the film, with Miller hell-bent on humanising the flight directors and NASA teams in Houston who worked tirelessly on this amazing mission.
The film’s soundtrack by Matt Morton is filled with eerie tension, constantly putting the inevitability of actual history into doubt; none more so than when the astronauts begin their fiery re-entry to earth in yet another terrifying moment.
Overall Apollo 11 is a masterpiece of total cinema. It is an experience more than a history lesson, but the vicarious journey you take through space is so beautifully rendered that you’ll never have a more vivid understanding of this moment. Do not wait for this to come out on DVD, or BBC 4 one Sunday evening: Get to HOME to experience this on the big screen without delay.
Reviewer - Ben Hassouna-Smith
on - 1/7/19
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