- Stringing together groupings shows the lunar essence of subjects from affection to franticness.
- This is a stunning excursion into external and inward space
It just requires eight minutes of To the Moon before we hear the waves of Debussy’s Clair de Lune, over a ravishing vintage montage of accepting darlings. It’s what might be compared to Pomp and Circumstance at the Proms for Tadhg O’Sullivan’s wonderfully concise visual article on the little man in the sky; the moon’s bewildering apartness applying a consistent draw on our enthusiastic and creative lives, oddly making it an indistinguishable piece of us. As the initial citation, from a Jennifer Elise Foerster sonnet, puts it: “Moon/Earth piece/Remember us.”
Properly, given the managing god here and its dispatch of the oblivious, O’Sullivan’s film is an estuarial wash of lunar-related pictures, sound and text – all the better to permeate straight into us. Starting with clear shots of the rising and setting moon, its stunningly expansive arrangement of direction shot and file film – including films from 25 nations, including ones by Satyajit Ray, FW Murnau and Carl Theodor Dreyer – affirms the moon’s widespread appeal.
Separated into areas as indicated by lunar stages, the design is completely clear yet has interesting space. In some cases, the directing topic is self-evident, likewise with the sentiment and franticness sections in the movie’s “fading” first half. Once in a while, a theoretical condition appears to hold influence, as in the creepy, senescent distractions in the “new moon” part. Afterwards, there’s an enchanting little deviation with kids estimating regarding who may live up there; a family with red noses consumed by the sun, says one.
O’Sullivan offers a kind of political expression into the Moon’s penultimate “gibbous” area, situating space investigation as a late advance in a more extensive history of imperialism, so, all in all “the way of the moon had broken down”. Yet, it feels somewhat lightweight and summed up, terrestrial close to the practically entrancing tide of more basic propensities somewhere else – an incredible nocturne hymning the moon’s draw on our bodies and psyches. Possibly O’Sullivan ought to do a film for each planet and start his artistic universe.