We Came in Peace

Recently, I ponied up the cash to buy "For All Mankind" (which you can watch for 5 bucks online by following the link), and -as anticipated- I thoroughly enjoyed revisiting it. The documentary is footage of NASA missions to the moon overlayed with audio from new interviews by the astronauts involved, and the direction Al Reinert takes this material in is really interesting. Rather than taking this footage of accomplishments that are dripping with curiosity and the importance of history and making a commonplace narrative out of them, Reinert turns the piece into an exploration of the mundane. No narrator with a silver tongue, no tone of self importance. This is astronauts reflecting on the humanity and ordinary nature of the task laid out before them, and the juxtaposition of that lens against the rosy way we view the accomplishments is an interesting perspective.

So much of this documentary and the narration by those astronauts involved is tied into the fact that this was a job for them, and that surrounding these landmark accomplishments are such simple tasks, things we do every day that are somehow transported to a realm of wonder and disbelief when we see these astronauts doing them. We see them putting on their suits -referred to as their "work clothes"- and its an experience with a complete disconnect until viewed with the humility of common terminology. It seems as though entire portions of Reinert's film are dedicated to deconstructing the mystique surrounding the moon landings, and yet after the ordinary nature of these actions is conveyed we find some indelible level of human fascination is tied up in exploration. The monotony is there; astronauts brush their teeth, take shits and listen to music just like the rest of us, but them committing these actions in the midst of their travels is something like a reaffirmation of our existence. Its almost as if Reinert's saying that if these brave souls are acting in the same way and doing the same things as us while out in the cosmos, we must be doing something right.

In this respect, we can ask ourselves: What is it to revitalize human nature? I think in a couple of my posts here I've talked about the dark shadow of a scientific world and the necessity of romantic liberties, and I think the repackaging of our day to day lives into something fascinating thanks to new scenery is a direct example of that. When astronauts drive a vehicle on the moon, there's little difference from what we do here on Earth. For All Mankind shows them collecting rocks, running, jumping, and using basic tools, and all of this is given to the viewer to be held in captivation, but through the interview clips used Reinert makes the intention very clear: There is such a small difference between the actions of these men and those of us in our day to day lives. In so many ways these accomplishments exist beyond our boundaries of reason and understanding, at a point in our imaginations where proximity has broken down and we become drooling infants, amazed at the magical gestures being performed by those we think beyond us.

In the supplements there's a really awesome piece where famous transmissions from space are spliced together, all over a simple, never-changing picture of the deeply cratered and imperfect moon. You hear Alan Shepard's transmission as he becomes the first American into space, Neil Armstrong's words as he takes the first step on the moon, James Lovell as he reports problems with his ship's approach to the moon. Throughout the excitement, fear and wonder of what these men are reporting, all you have to watch is a simple picture of the moon, it being the perfect foil to the raw emotion of these broadcasts. The contrast goes a long way to put not only our ventures into space in perspective, but also to delve somewhere deeper. This is touching on the very kernel of human emotion and excitement, a place we approach with reckless abandon and whose nature we refuse to recognize or fully acknowledge in the hopes of a brighter day. What is it to go to the moon besides an empty gesture, and yet for so many it's a beacon of intense pride and hope. Even for the detractors, who think our efforts were in vain, there's always something we could have done instead. We could have spent the money domestically, improved our schools or health system or military, but for these people such actions hold the same wonder and promise that our explorations of space do. With this action, we can prove that the future won't be as cold as our past.

In raising these questions, I feel we begin to touch on interesting questions, ones existing in the vein of asking "How much is too much?" The conscious recognition that as a species we may not actually want to know the answer to everything is newer to Western thought, but our times and eventuality give credence to the claims. Maybe it's not so much that we want to know how the universe works exactly or to have a fate laid out before us clearly enough that we never get hurt by surprise, but something different, more simple. Maybe, at the end of the day, we just want to know that things are going to be alright, that even though life will slog on and kick and knock us down, things can get better, our children won't be subjected to the same struggles as us and that the human condition can become more peaceful, loving and accepting. It's probably easy to refute an argument like this, but that's also a pretty good way to bum yourself out. Maybe that says enough right there.