For All Mankind [Blu-Ray]
Director : Al Reinert
MPAA Rating : NR
Year of Release : 1989
Culled from thousands of hours of footage shot by NASA astronauts, almost all of which had never been seen before, For All Mankind returns the magic and wonderment to space travel, which has become all but mundane in the popular imaginary. By editing together bits and pieces from the nine Apollo missions that were launched between 1968 and 1972 (as well as a few shots from later Gemini missions), director Al Reinert has fabricated a seamless trip from the earth to the moon and back, a genuinely magisterial accomplishment that is presented as something both abstractly poetic and remarkably technical. Narrated with grace and heartfelt emotion by more than a dozen of the men who made the trip, the documentary is both exceedingly personal and decidedly epic, especially in the jaw-dropping footage of lift-off, which turns the fiery engines into a lyrical vision of raw, harnessed power.
In many ways, For All Mankind is the essence of a pure documentary in the way it presents a unique experience with as little overt and attention-grabbing manipulation as possible. All of the footage (with the exception of one fabricated shot of the moon seen through the portal of a rocket about to launch) was taken from the NASA film archives, making For All Mankind an assembly of found footage, albeit found footage of the highest order (as Reinert put it, space is the biggest location in cinema history). The images in the spacecraft and on the moon were shot by astronauts using 16mm data-acquisition cameras, and they provide a level of detail and clarity that is often missing from the clips we have seen on television over and over again (Reinert insisted on going back to the original camera magazines that NASA held in cold storage to ensure the best possible quality for 35mm blowup).
Various shots of the ground personnel, mostly chain-smoking, crew-cut men in bad ties, remind us that a trip to the moon is not just the realization of an ancient impulse, but also a technical triumph that represents a peak of human accomplishment that, despite its now familiar nature, is still outside most of our reaches. Footage of late-1960s and early-’70s command consoles and video monitors and large headsets have a certain archaic quality to them, yet their sheer girth and ingenuity still demand an impressed response. There are also astounding shots from inside the spacecraft that were captured automatically, and the fact that they are among the most beautiful in the film is ironic given that they were created for the purely practical purpose of ensuring that the engineers had a visual record of what happened in case anything went wrong. In this sense, For All Mankind is one of the great works of modern art in that it transforms the practical and the mechanical into something sensual and arresting.
Reinert avoids manipulating his found footage as much as possible. When there is extradiegetic music by ambient-synth pioneer Brian Eno laid over the images, it is subtly atmospheric in underscoring the mesmerizing nature of leaving earth’s orbit and entering a completely alien world, an experience that can be claimed by only a handful of human beings in the entire history of humankind. Mostly, though, the soundtrack is composed of a seamless interweaving of sounds recorded during the actual missions (the astronauts breathing, ground control going through various checklists, the often humorously casual give-and-take between those on earth and those in space) and the reminiscences of the two-dozen astronauts who have traveled to the moon and back. With the exception of a few opening title cards, there is no text on the screen during the film, not even names to identify the various astronauts and ground personnel. On the one hand, this denies us direct knowledge of who we are seeing at any given point (unless you can identify famous astronauts on sight or by the sound of their voices), but it also functions to shift us away from an informative focus on who’s who and instead concentrate our attention on both the collective nature of the accomplishment and the experience of space travel itself.
And what an experience it is. While there were films about space travel before Reinert’s film and many, many more since (including both documentaries like HBO’s From the Earth to the Moon and fictionalized docudramas like Ron Howard’s Apollo 13, both of which Reinert helped write), none have quite managed to capture the pure essence of what the experience must have been like. For Reinert, who began his career as a magazine journalist before stumbling into the NASA archives and becoming captivated by all the footage of space travel that no one had ever seen, the film is first and foremost about a journey, and it encapsulates with great power the wonderment of something that too many of us now take for granted.
|For All Mankind Criterion Collection Blu-Ray|
|For All Mankind is also available in a new DVD reissue with the same supplements (SRP $29.95).|
|Distributor||The Criterion Collection|
|Release Date||July 14, 2009|
|VIDEO & AUDIO|
|I had originally seen Criterion’s new transfer of For All Mankind on a high-def master tape a little over a year ago when executive producer Fred Miller visited the department in which I teach at Baylor University (where he went as an undergraduate) to show the film and talk about the experience of making it. I was and still am amazed by the clarity, sharpness, and detail of the image (especially the blackness of space), which makes this Blu-Ray a real gem and a definite improvement over the 1999 DVD (the only quibble is that Criterion continues to windowbox 1.33:1 films). As Al Reinert discusses in the supplements, one of his goals was to ensure that the NASA footage looked as good as possible by going back to the original 16mm camera magazines and making 35mm blow-ups from there, and that impulse is maintained in this new director-approved high-def image, which was taken from a 35mm interpositive and digitally restored. There is plenty of inherent variation in image quality as the footage came from numerous cameras over many years, some of which were 16mm and some of which were video. The best images are absolutely pristine, with only minimal grain and a wealth of detail (notice how fine the dirt on the moon looks). The Blu-Ray also benefits greatly from a newly remixed DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround soundtrack, which is a significant improvement over the previously available two-channel track. The additional channels help to both expand Brian Eno’s ambient score and also fully immerse you in the sounds of space travel and the voices of the astronauts.|
|This Blu-Ray duplicates all of the supplements that were previously available on the 1999 DVD. There is an informative audio commentary by director Al Reinert and Apollo 17 commander Eugene A. Cernan, who was the last man to set foot on the moon; “Paintings From the Moon,” a featurette about Apollo 12 and Skylab astronaut Alan Bean’s career as an artist that consists of a 7-minute video introduction followed by 24 of Bean’s paintings, which can be viewed with his commentary; “3, 2, 1 ... Blastoff!,” a two-minute collection of NASA launch footage; and optional on-screen identification of astronauts and mission control specialists. New this time around is “An Accidental Gift: The Making of For All Mankind,” a 32-minute documentary that features interviews with Reinert, Bean, NASA film editors Don Pickard and Chuck Welch, NASA film curator Morris Williams, and NASA lead librarian Mike Gentry. We also have “On Camera,” a 20-minute collection of excerpted on-screen interviews with 15 of the Apollo astronauts taken from two films, The Wonder of It All and The Other Side of the Moon, and video footage of two anniversary events celebrating Apollo 7 and 8. The insert booklet includes essays by film critic Terrence Rafferty and director Al Reinert.|
Copyright ©2009 James Kendrick
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