Fly Me to the Moon

There is something deeply strange about watching a $100 million romantic comedy in 2024. In an era where mid-budget movies have been unceremoniously shoved into the "direct-to-streaming" bin, Fly Me to the Moon feels like a transmission from an alternate reality—one where the movie star system never collapsed and the "Big Swing" original screenplay still rules the roost. I watched this while munching on a bag of freeze-dried space strawberries I found in the back of my pantry, and let me tell you, they were significantly crunchier than the actual plot.

The film is a curious hybrid: part 1960s period piece, part screwball romance, and part "what if?" conspiracy thriller. We’re dropped into the high-stakes world of the Apollo 11 mission, but the focus isn’t on the physics; it’s on the optics. Scarlett Johansson plays Kelly Jones, a shark-like marketing maven hired by a shadowy government operative (Woody Harrelson) to sell the moon to a bored American public. Standing in her way is Cole Davis, played by Channing Tatum, a NASA launch director who treats the mission with the solemnity of a high priest and views Kelly’s "Oreo partnerships" as a personal insult.

Mad Men Meets Moon Men

What I appreciated most about the early acts is how the film leans into the aesthetics of the "Space Race" without feeling like a dusty museum exhibit. Greg Berlanti (the man largely responsible for the Arrowverse on TV) directs with a bright, saturated palette that makes 1960s Florida look like a postcard from a future that never quite arrived. Scarlett Johansson is clearly having a blast, channeling a bit of that Mad Men energy but with a contemporary edge that feels very "now." She’s fast-talking, morally flexible, and wears a series of outfits that probably accounted for roughly 15% of the film’s massive budget.

Opposite her, Channing Tatum is essentially playing a human block of granite with feelings. It’s a bit of a thankless role—the "straight man" in a world of eccentrics—but he grounds the movie when the whimsy threatens to float away. Their chemistry is... interesting. It’s less "fireworks" and more "polite embers," but in a year dominated by CGI monstrosities and franchise fatigue, seeing two actual movie stars trade barbs in a well-tailored office is a genuine relief.

The Fake-Out and the Fallout

The meat of the story kicks in when the White House gets nervous about the mission failing. Harrelson’s character orders Kelly to stage a secret, fake moon landing on a soundstage as a "backup" for the television broadcast. This is where the film takes its biggest risk. By flirting with the "Moon Landing was faked" conspiracy theory, it walks a very thin tightrope. Does it mock the conspiracists or validate them? Surprisingly, it does neither, instead using the setup for a series of comedic set-pieces involving a flamboyant director named Lance Vespertine, played with scene-stealing theatricality by Jim Rash.

If you’ve seen Jim Rash in Community, you know exactly what he brings to the table: high-octane exasperation and impeccable timing. He’s the secret weapon of the second act. However, the film struggles to balance the goofiness of the "fake landing" with the genuine gravity (pun intended) of the actual Apollo 11 mission. There’s a tonal whiplash where we go from a black-cat-on-the-soundstage gag to a somber reflection on the lives lost in the Apollo 1 fire. It doesn't always land.

A $100 Million Curiosity

One cannot talk about Fly Me to the Moon without mentioning its financial context. Apple Original Films spent $100 million on this, then partnered with Sony for a theatrical release that, quite frankly, didn’t find its audience. It’s a victim of the current theatrical climate—too "adult" for the kids, too "light" for the prestige hunters. It’s the kind of film that would have been a massive hit in 1998, but in 2024, it feels like a beautiful, expensive anomaly.

Behind the scenes, the production was a bit of a revolving door. Originally titled Project Artemis, it was supposed to star Chris Evans, reuniting him with his Marvel co-star, before scheduling conflicts led to Channing Tatum stepping in. The screenplay by Rose Gilroy (daughter of Nightcrawler director Dan Gilroy) has a sharp wit, but you can feel the various revisions meant to make it "bigger" and more "universal." It’s polished to a mirror finish, which sometimes robs it of the grit that made 1960s NASA so fascinating.

The cinematography by Dariusz Wolski—who has lensed everything from Pirates of the Caribbean to The Martian—is gorgeous, particularly the way he captures the Florida light. And the score by Daniel Pemberton provides a rhythmic, ticking-clock energy that keeps the 132-minute runtime from feeling like a slog.

Ultimately, Fly Me to the Moon is a pleasant, well-meaning comedy that tries to be three different movies at once and settles for being "pretty good" at all of them. It lacks the bite of a true satire and the heart of a classic romance, but it succeeds as a piece of glossy, high-production-value entertainment. It’s the perfect "Saturday afternoon on the couch" movie, even if its theatrical ambitions weren't quite reached.

If you’re tired of multiverses and want to see Woody Harrelson be weird in a suit or Ray Romano deliver a grounded, soulful performance as a NASA engineer, this is worth your time. It celebrates human ingenuity while acknowledging our obsession with the "sale." It didn't change my life, but it reminded me that sometimes, watching movie stars be movie stars is enough of a mission. If nothing else, it’s a stylish reminder of a time when the whole world looked at the sky and wondered what was next, rather than just looking at their phones.