`It feels just like it sounds,' says astronaut Ken Mattingly as Apollo 16 roars off the launch pad, ice crystals shattering an avalanche across the rocket's skin, the engines shouting lava.
From 1968 to 1972, there were nine manned flights to the moon, all as part of the Apollo space program. Twenty-four men made the round trip. Twelve walked on the moon. They brought back six million feet of footage. Director Al Reinert condensed the NASA films, dubbed in his interviews with the astronauts, and mixed in Brian Eno's weightless score. The result is the Oscar winning For All Mankind. And despite its many players, cosmic tableaus, venue shifts, malfunctions, space walks, and varied narrators, the film runs seamlessly. Reinert abridged all the moon shots into one eighty- minute trip. Not a simple mission in its own right.
What attains is a kind of spiritual velocity.
`If the glass breaks or the computers quit, you're not going to get back home. We had a lot of time to think about that,' says Apollo 12 astronaut Alan Bean while the camera drifts through the command module.
Minutes pass wordlessly. Reinert lets the footage speak for itself; staging, landing, earthrise appear ineffably beautiful. Set off by the intense black of space, the colors glow. Someone muses about the serenity of space travel. All goes quiet until suddenly the speakers crackle to life.
`Houston, we've had a problem here. The fuel cell's disconnected, buss overload in 1 and 2. Main buss A and B are out. Everything in the world just dropped out.We are venting something into space.' What little footage there is from the Apollo 13 malfunction is enough to make me wonder why Ron Howard bothered re-shooting.
`You get ready to land on the surface. Then you look up, and there's that old moon growing fast, filling up the hatch window as you're drifting into its shadow. 2001 stuff,' says Apollo 14's Stuart Roosa.
From countdown to splashdown, not a moment passes without some scenic revelation, some eerie silence, some prayer, some pride. Through it all, the cameras capture details within details.
An audio track on the dvd features commentary by Reinert and Apollo 17's Eugene Cernan, who sounds more like a poet than a pilot, which fits. Only a poem could express in words the tranquility, honor, and wonder of this fine documentary.
From 1968 to 1972, there were nine manned flights to the moon, all as part of the Apollo space program. Twenty-four men made the round trip. Twelve walked on the moon. They brought back six million feet of footage. Director Al Reinert condensed the NASA films, dubbed in his interviews with the astronauts, and mixed in Brian Eno's weightless score. The result is the Oscar winning For All Mankind. And despite its many players, cosmic tableaus, venue shifts, malfunctions, space walks, and varied narrators, the film runs seamlessly. Reinert abridged all the moon shots into one eighty- minute trip. Not a simple mission in its own right.
What attains is a kind of spiritual velocity.
`If the glass breaks or the computers quit, you're not going to get back home. We had a lot of time to think about that,' says Apollo 12 astronaut Alan Bean while the camera drifts through the command module.
Minutes pass wordlessly. Reinert lets the footage speak for itself; staging, landing, earthrise appear ineffably beautiful. Set off by the intense black of space, the colors glow. Someone muses about the serenity of space travel. All goes quiet until suddenly the speakers crackle to life.
`Houston, we've had a problem here. The fuel cell's disconnected, buss overload in 1 and 2. Main buss A and B are out. Everything in the world just dropped out.We are venting something into space.' What little footage there is from the Apollo 13 malfunction is enough to make me wonder why Ron Howard bothered re-shooting.
`You get ready to land on the surface. Then you look up, and there's that old moon growing fast, filling up the hatch window as you're drifting into its shadow. 2001 stuff,' says Apollo 14's Stuart Roosa.
From countdown to splashdown, not a moment passes without some scenic revelation, some eerie silence, some prayer, some pride. Through it all, the cameras capture details within details.
An audio track on the dvd features commentary by Reinert and Apollo 17's Eugene Cernan, who sounds more like a poet than a pilot, which fits. Only a poem could express in words the tranquility, honor, and wonder of this fine documentary.