In 8th grade I had to deliver a book report. This particular assignment called not for a concealed attempt at plagiarism, but instead for a costumed oral reinterpretation of a scene in the book you read. I got excited. I had enjoyed The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury and couldn’t wait to act out a scene in which the protagonist is driven to madness in the face of a strange new reality. I put on a big blue robe with Egyptian symbols all over it (‘cuz, you know, Martians) and I wore quarters in place of my eyes (‘cuz, you know, Martians). The scene I chose was actually a two-person (well, two being) act. That’s Ok; I’ll just do both parts. In my mind, I was perfect – I looked every bit the part of a Martian and had deftly conveyed the terror of a man being taunted by his intergalactic enemy. You know that scene in Christmas Story where Ralphie writes the theme for class? Yeah, that. In my reality, and in front of my peers, I looked like a schizophrenic blind pubescent boy in a big blue dress ranting God-knows-what in different directions. Thing was, I didn’t actually realize this until the teacher stopped me from continuing. To this day, none of my classmates has said a thing about it.
This moment of imagination v. reality was brought to mind about halfway through Apollo 18, an ill-conceived chaotic mess of a film. Apollo 18 is another one of these Blair Witch/Paranormal Activity fake documentary horror compilations getting so much attention of late. The twist here is that we’ve described the events of a “scrubbed” NASA mission. The producers wish us to believe the mission wasn’t actually scrubbed, just ill fated and here’s the proof. In order to recreate the feel for the time, the film quality and camerawork is deliberately substandard. Both of these are customary elements now in the genre so that we can pretend it’s real. I hate that. Apollo 18 feels like it was shot in super 8. Remember that Driver’s Ed film “Red Asphalt“? In my driver’s ed class, I saw a 1970s version that had better production value than Apollo 18.
And it’s not just that the film looks cheap. There other really annoying hallmarks of this type of film – one is that since Apollo 18 is a “documentary,” it never explores character development, only circumstance. When the evil thing comes, I never care what happens because I never really learned who its victims were. The bigger problem, however, is the action. Guys in a spaceship sleeping. Ok, we get that. Guys on the moon. Ok, we get that. Wait a minute; did a moon rock just turn into a big creepy spider?! Action! Every time, and I mean every single solitary time, something happens, the following takes place: shouts, a violent shift of focus, the camera goes blurry, it zips off, we briefly cut to something irrelevant, then more blurry, a few more violent shifts and finally a steady shot of the conclusion post action. This is your Martian Chronicles moment, fellas. You might look the part better than I did. Your conveyance of madness and fear? Right on par with 8th Grade me.
When I think about what went into Apollo 18, I’m sure that the makers were just as proud of Apollo 18 as I was of my Martian moment. They wrote a script about moon rock alien monsters. They successfully recreated a moon landing and had some plausible excuse for the footage quality (although none for the existence). They conveyed some terror. Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I got a D on my book report.
Rated PG-13, 86 Minutes
D: Gonzalo López-Gallego
W: Brian Miller, Cory Goodman
Genre: Horror mockumentary
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Paranormal Activity junkies
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: The impatient
