Moonwalkers feels like the kind of movie that was made on drugs, in both the best and worst ways.

The narrative feels like something you’d hear Kevin Smith spin out while giggling to himself on a podcast, a zany tale about how the U.S. Government, in a panic of uncertainty about how the impending lunar landing might go, sends an operative to the United Kingdom to hire Stanley Kubrick to make a fake version of the occasion, just in case. But along the way, through a wildly improbable series of mishaps and mistaken identities, the operative instead ends up working with a failed band manager and an indie art-house director who Andy Warhol might think was a bit out there.

The story here feels very loose and flowy, like a series of free-association gags, but there’s just enough structure under the surface to assure us that it isn’t all randomness and nonsense.

Moonwalkers explores some important and potentially interesting ideas, but it never quite has a point to make. The themes on offer here are variations on a tune about the role of masculinity in the world: Ron Pearlman’s Kidman character is warned by his superiors about rampant homosexuality in England, but the characters in England are clearly just as homophobic as their brothers across the pond. We see several brands of toxic masculinity, from the lead singer of the band Jonny manages who can’t figure out why women won’t sleep instantly with him when they find out he’s in a band, to the manager of the talent agency representing Stanley Kubrick engaging in casual workplace sexual harassment. Add in more phallic imagery than you can shake a stick at (heh) courtesy of thrusting rocket ships and fat cigars, and you’ve got a film that clearly has maleness on the mind.

But the film never has anything to say about these issues beyond, “Hey look at that, sure is a problem or something huh?” And maybe it’s okay that Moonwalkers doesn’t come down on any particular point of view. Maybe it’s okay that it’s an exploration rather than a dissertation.

Moonwalkers is nominally a comedy. I say nominally, because the premise is funny, and there are many funny situations, but there are very few actual funny moments. This is the kind of movie that you would laugh at if it was described to you more than you would actually watching it. Which, since we’re exploring the nature of drug-fueled cinema, makes me wonder if pot might actually be bad for comedy writers. Do they think everything is funny because they’re already giggling at it? Maybe the best comedy writers are stone cold sober, and a little bit depressed; because if they can laugh, you know the joke is funny.

The characters of Kidman and Jonny both feel very genuine, despite, or perhaps because of, the insanity of the film. They’re both mired in endless responsibilities, to their peers, to their superiors, and to themselves, and they both exist in a world that is completely insane. They’re the straight-men encountering a series of increasingly fantastic clowns, trying to make sense of it all.

Ron Pearlman in particular puts in a truly standout performance. It doesn’t matter that it makes zero sense that a man of his age would have been fighting in the jungles of Vietnam; instead his age makes the weight of that conflict feel all the more powerful. He’s believable in moments of action, but just as believable when his character learns to stop worrying (through the power of drugs donchaknow) and love the bums he finds himself surrounded by.

And maybe none of this would work as well as it does without the impeccable craftsmanship on display in every shot of this movie. First time director Antoine Bardou-Jacquet stages every shot beautifully. From action scenes to acid trip insanity, Moonwalkers looks terrific at every turn. It captures the soul of the sixties and smears it all over the screen with great panache and incredible detail.

Moonwalkers isn’t a perfect film. It might not even be a great film. It isn’t as funny as it could be, and it’s not sure what it wants to say. But it’s worth watching for the insane story, powerful characters, and beautiful cinematography.



Albert lives in Florida where the humidity has driven him halfway to madness, and his children have finished the job. He is the author of The Mulch Pile and A Prairie Home Apocalypse or: What the Dog Saw .

To hear more of our thoughts on Moonwalkers check out Episode 197 of the Human Echoes Podcast.