I reference sex and and its various discharges on regular intervals -probably to the point that it becomes a cliche by itself. Well it’s never been more applicable than with Moon: I came. Buckets. Gallons, tons, oodles, litres, and whatever measurement you can think of. It’s all groovy here, since Moon is the best purebred science fiction film I’ve ever seen. …and I’ve seen damn near all of them.
(In this case, ‘purebred’ is interchangeable with ‘hard sci fi;’ think semi-realism as opposed to Star Wars‘ bullshit-in-space.)
Where Moon succeeds above and beyond its genre counterparts is Sam Rockwell. I fully realize it was only last night that I was naming Rockwell as a terrible lead actor and a good reason Choke was a failure. Well, I don’t have any excuses for why that performance was dreadful, because I’ve rarely been witness to a finer exhibition of pure talent. As a so-called ‘slow sci fi’ movie, Moon is all about Rockwell and his relation with the actor opposite him. ….which in this case is also Sam Rockwell. For purposes of being a gentleman, consider the following to contain mild-to-serious spoilers. I don’t want to be too much of a dick after all.