Critic Reviews

Even though the conspiracy theory that NASA faked the moon landing is deeply and depressingly cynical, there isn’t an ounce of cynicism in Greg Berlanti’s sweet, comical and joyous film. “Fly Me to the Moon” uses great screenwriting and good old-fashioned star power to bring a far-fetched concept back down to Earth.

It seems to be about a lot of things — a kinder, gentler America, early feminism, truth in advertising, an impartial media. But above all, it’s a pleasant few hours at the movies with charismatic actors Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum.

At its core, Fly Me To The Moon is a thoroughly enjoyable, memorably novel rom-com that regularly surprises in a genre that often doesn’t, and we're all better for it.

Fly Me to the Moon only needs to sell one thing: that beneath Kelly and Cole’s fast-paced dialogue and combative flirtation, there exists a mutual attraction compelling enough to keep us guessing. We already know how the lunar mission turns out, but never tire of gazing upon stars such as these.

This is the kind of movie I'd like to see more of, the kind that wears its heart on its sleeve and takes us on a ride. A meandering ride, sure, but even a long trip can have its perks.

The movie, brought to life in part thanks to the efforts its star and producer Scarlett Johansson, is a charming, cute possible history, invoking rom-com tactics and old-fashioned appeal in a way that is fairly successful.

During the film’s livelier moments, there are some real laughs that erupt, and watching Tatum and Johansson play off each other is a charming reminder of a simpler time. One when America dreamt of the moon, and stars were still the reason audiences went to the movies.

With director Greg Berlanti (“Love, Simon”) skillfully weaving in a myriad of storylines that justify the 132-minute running time, Rose Gilroy delivering a crisp and funny script (based on a story by Bill Kirstein and Kennan Flynn) and Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum igniting the fuse with good old-fashioned, Grade A movie-star chemistry, “Fly Me to the Moon” is a “go” from the get-go.

The film doesn’t offer much wisdom about how we should deal with our growing unreality, but it is a charming diversion. In a way, its very shallowness is the point: Sometimes, the film posits, what we want to see matters more than what we actually do.

It’s pleasant summer-evening entertainment like something out of 1995, and only occasionally gets too puffed up about what should be modest aims. That’s the advantage of pastiche: It’s hard to do it quite so self-seriously.