À la conquête de la lune

This movie was supposed to be a musical, but by 1930 audiences had tired of at least the "All Singing" part of "All Talking, All Singing, All Dancing" movies. Virtually everyone's first talking picture was a musical, and there just wasn't enough good music to go around. Theaters were even putting up signs in the cases of movies that sounded like they might be musicals with statements that read "This is not a musical" so as not to repel audiences. This situation lasted until 1933.

In this case, the movie probably would have been much better if it had gone through with the originally planned musical format. The introductory titles show that the music was written by Irving Berlin, and the cast even includes crooner Bing Crosby, who was so good in "The King of Jazz" that came out that same year. Instead, there is only one musical number two-thirds of the way into the film, and that is the only place we get to see or hear Bing Crosby. On top of that, Bebe Daniels, the lead actress, was a much better singer than she was an actress. Thus making this a romantic comedy of sorts really took away from all that she could have brought to the movie.

What you're left with is a little bit more than a shell of a movie. It seems like nobody bothered to fill in the blanks left by the depletion of the would-have-been musical numbers. I give this movie six stars instead of five mainly because of the historical value. Douglas Fairbanks would make only two more movies after this one. Someone else has already mentioned the factor his voice played in the end of his talkie career. It is worth mentioning that his voice isn't outright bad, but it just doesn't match the swashbuckling image he had developed during the silent era. It's a higher pitch than what you're expecting. It is great fun to see him doing some of his trademark acrobatic moves during the film, and it's hard to believe a man of almost 50 could still be so agile and have such a youthful and vigorous appearance. Particularly entertaining is Edward Everett Horton as the valet. He had a good career in silent films, but he would do even better as a character actor in the age of talking pictures where dialogue really allowed him to shine as a well-meaning if somewhat befuddled character in a myriad of films. Also, various sets in the film show off some fine and interesting examples of 1930 architecture, and it is interesting to see how the early stages of the depression were interpreted by people at the time. In 1930 the stock market sell-off is still portrayed as a "panic" and a temporary set-back that has merely bankrupted a few high-rolling financiers.

I usually find frothy comedies this old to be a bore, but was somehow captivated by this one, probably initially because of the really startling beauty of Bebe Daniels (no I never had heard of her either). After she hooked me into the film, the wonderful chemistry between her, Horton and Fairbanks kept me on board. Really an entertaining hour and a half, and the period flavor is enthralling. Worth a see.

At not quite 71 minutes, the version of this film that I have seen is even shorter than the theatrically shortened version listed by IMDb, although it does retain the Crosby footage. Perhaps the severe editing is one reason that I found this to be the most confused (and confusing) film of its period. We are given no clue as to why characters suddenly behave in a completely different way than they have previously conducted themselves, allegiances dissolve and reform for no apparent reason, and what might have made for an interesting plot twist (the introduction of drugs into a cocktail by Horton as valet) becomes no more than an excuse for Fairbanks's financial wizard to leap around his stateroom like a monkey playing football. Still, all the actors seem to be giving it everything they've got, trying to put the script across, and being able to see the three leads and Bing at the top of their games is the only thing that makes this movie watchable.

This glorious Art Deco cocktail talkie from 1930 is possibly one of the top three masterpieces of set design of the early talkie era. An student of film set and costume design for this period - and any snazzy modernist look will alternately swoon, scream, almost faint and want to large-print every scene and set of what I celebrate as a sensational art deco dazzler. Produced in 1930and reflecting the wealthy marble chrome and velvet of the zenith of 1929 jazz design REACHING FOR THE MOON is a sumptuous feast for the eyes. Even in the gasp worthy shortened version I goggled at, it rates an 8 for the visuals alone. It would rate a perfect 10 out of 10 only if it were the full version with the obviously deleted scenes and songs. On the big screen of a twinkling deco palace and in a 35mm print this film must have had depression audiences feasting... and for the rest of us 76 years later we can only slump in deco-exhaustion at the deliciousness of every frame. Then there is a lovely story, well realised and well scripted of a big rich boisterous dude realising the depth of emotional wealth of a modern woman and the love possible. Gorgeous Bebe Daniels and robust virile Fairbanks share some genuinely moving and very believable on deck scenes as the ocean liner reaches port and post Wall St crash of 29 reality. But the costumes! the scope of the travel and life presented, the deco friezes, the hallways! their apartments! God Almighty! This is art deco heaven and I only wish that some day we can see a perfect print of this treasure box delight in it's original production length with all the songs and scenes. Show this to someone studying set design and they will never forget it. It also contains some hilarious risqué pre code sexual frankness this era is famous for.... especially Edward Everett Horton testing some love clinches on Fairbanks in the balcony hammock when the electrician arrives and is mortified to see the tuxedo junction happening between the giggling fellers.

While this film was apparently issued as a musical, there is really only a single musical performance in the entire 66-minute version that I saw, lasting only about 4 or 5 minutes. The original issue apparently had more in it, and considering that it was Irving Berlin material, it's a great pity that more of it didn't remain.

That being said, however, the single production number that does come along, 45 minutes into the film, is easily worth the price of admission. Not only is it the earliest extant film version of a Bing Crosby performance (and I swear he was wearing a toupee, even then!), but his solo piece was wonderfully supported by a second from Bebe Daniels, and yet a third, from a sultry-voiced woman who is no longer recalled, and all of it given life by a jazzy dance troupe — not as performers, but as actual dancers. It projects the storied Jazz Age with marvelous resonance, and is a joy to watch.