I've gotten into trouble over the years concerning my definition of "sci-fi," so
let's clear some things up once and for all. By modern genre conventions, science-fiction falls
under the umbrella of "speculative fiction," a catch-all term that includes fantasy, sci-fi,
supernatural horror, magical realism, and a few other subgenres concerned with speculating what
the world would be like if the rules of reality were tweaked. Sci-fi itself is subdivided into
so-called hard and soft sci-fi, with hard sci-fi adhering more closely to scientific realism and
soft sci-fi leaning more in the direction of fantasy. It's Jules Verne versus H.G. Wells,
Arthur C. Clarke versus Isaac Asimov, Star Trek versus Star Wars, et cetera.
Therefore, I defend my definition of sci-fi under the broadest possible terms,
even including the most basic natural sciences so that things like Godzilla and One Million Years
B.C. qualify. If you don't like that definition, please feel free to tell me in the comments--the
algorithm loves engagement--but don't expect me to change my mind on the matter. This all
brings me in a round about sort of way to today's film, a surprising bit of cinema
from the silent era that falls well in the hard sci-fi camp, and one that allows me to
return to one of my favorite founding fathers of big budget spectacle: the legendary Fritz Lang.
A wealthy entrepreneur, Helius, and the disgraced scientist, Professor Mannfeldt,
set out to visit the far side of the moon, joined by Helius' assistant, Windegger,
and his fiancée, Friede, only to be sabotaged by wealthy elites and their nefarious spy,
who intend to make sure the moon belongs only to them. Helius launches his experimental rocket,
but once they all reach the lunar surface, things immediately begin to spiral out of control. What
will they find in the alien caverns of our celestial neighbor, what will they do with
the spy in their midst, and can they repair their ship in time to make it home alive?
In 1923, the physics student Hermann Oberth published a controversial book called The
Rocket into Interplanetary Space based on his own doctoral dissertation on the subject of rocketry.
Inspired by the works of Jules Verne, he had been fascinated by the subject since he was a
small child, even creating his own model rocket when he was only 14. His book was considered
somewhat fringe and utopian, but it caught the attention of German filmmaker Fritz Lang,
who had just finished the first of his Dr. Mabuse trilogy, Dr. Mabuse the Gambler.
Years later, after the completion of Metropolis, Lang and his wife
Thea von Harbou worked together to craft a movie based around the idea of a rocket to the moon,
only instead of playing it for simple fantasy like Georges Méliès' famous A Trip to the Moon,
they strove for as much scientific accuracy as possible. Thea von Harbou, writing the novel
upon which the film would be based, consulted the best scientific books and papers she could find,
while Fritz Lang hired Hermann Oberth himself--now a professor and founding member of Germany's
newly formed Society for Space Travel--to be the film's technical and scientific advisor.
Despite cooling relations between Lang and production studio Universum Film (or UFA)
following the financial disaster of Metropolis,
UFA did agree to help fund Oberth's own rocket experiments as part of the deal,
which included building the first liquid-fuel prototype that was planned to launch on the
day of the film's premiere. Oberth then brought in Rudolf Nebel as an assistant
along with a handful of others, including a then-eighteen-year-old Wernher von Braun.
Hey, do you have a sci-fi classic you want me to cover? Why don't you drop in the comments below,
and while you're there, don't forget to hit those like and subscribe buttons. If you'd like
to support what I do even more, please consider joining my Patreon to get access to bonus content,
vote on future topics, and more. I'm also the cohost of a couple of different podcasts,
The Streaming Heap and From Here to Paternity, and I have a novel called Paradox that is available
through Amazon. If all else fails, though, you can always check out my website at emagill.com,
where you'll find written reviews of plenty more sci-fi classics in both film and
literature. Now then, with all that shameless self-promotion out of the way, let's move on.
Filming on Frau im Mond--or Woman in the Moon as I'll call it from
now on--began in October of 1928 at UFA Studios in Neubabelsberg. Though most
films in production in Germany at the time were taking advantage of sound,
Lang was steadfast in opposition, believing that his movie would only work as a silent one.
The lunar landscape was created in studio with 40 quote unquote train wagons of sand taken from
the Baltic Sea and specially roasted to achieve the correct, whitish color. The landing capsule,
called a space airship, stood at twelve meters tall and was painted black and
white on either side. It also had a working hermetically sealing hatch in the middle.
One of the most difficult challenges on this set was lighting it as diffusely as possible,
because directional light ruined the illusion of being on an alien world
removed from human technology. Another major challenge was carefully sweeping
away footsteps and other impressions in the delicate sand between takes.
The model of the moon seen from orbit was constructed by hand out of plaster sculpted
around a large drum, and the launching scene was accomplished with extensive models that,
while obviously miniatures, are still pretty impressive.
For the moon scenes, the cast was outfitted with thick cork-lined shoes which were meant
to look like lead, which would presumably combat the lower gravity. This is just one example of
the film's operating ethos, in that it strove for complete scientific accuracy according to
what was known in 1928. Even the most obviously fictitious aspects like there being atmosphere
and gold on the far side of the moon were actually based on real scientific papers,
not nearly as fringe as you'd expect. It is worth noting, though, that Hermann Oberth
would complain about the breathable atmosphere as being the most unrealistic aspect of the story.
The scientific accuracy is probably what makes the film so remarkable, even today,
given that it showcased and even invented a few aspects of space travel that would go on
to become very real in the decades that followed. Fritz Lang himself is credited as the inventor of
the launch countdown, while Oberth used his expert knowledge of rocketry to insist on a
launching platform and a multi-stage rocket. The straps used to hold people in place in
zero gravity are also pretty close to the Velcro used today, even if, at the time,
people thought zero gravity only existed in a brief moment between celestial bodies.
Indeed, the science is what would eventually get the film banned in Germany during World
War II. When the Nazis were crafting their state-of-the-art missile system,
headlined by the deadly V-2 rocket, Woman in the Moon was considered so close to reality
that the Third Reich feared it would reveal state secrets. Many of the people who worked on the
science behind the film, especially Wernher von Braun, would also go on to build the V-2 rocket,
which, with its black-and-white design, looks an awful lot like the movie's space airship,
not to mention the woman in the moon logo painted onto the side.
Of course, Woman in the Moon doesn't get everything right,
as rockets don't need to be submerged in water for stability and sustained g-forces during
launch would prove to be far tamer than the math suggested, but in many respects,
it manages to be even more correct about what a trip to the moon would look like than even
1950's Destination Moon, which didn't use a multi-stage rocket or liquid fuel.
Woman in the Moon released in October of 1929 to much fanfare, with even Albert Einstein present
at the event. While Oberth was unable to have his rocket launch that day--accounts differ as
to why--he was eventually able to pull it off some time later, without as much pomp and circumstance.
Heavily promoted as the first sci-fi film based on real science, it would go on to have a reputation
as one of Germany's last great silent films. It was a financial disappointment, though not
nearly as disastrous as Metropolis had been, and so Fritz Lang never worked for UFA again. His
subsequent brief tenure with Nero-Film produced two of his greatest works, though, M and The
Testament of Dr. Mabuse, before he left Germany during the rise of Hitler in the early 1930's.
For more about why he left, and why his wife Thea von Harbou is seen as deeply problematic,
I discuss that in more depth in my review of Metropolis. It's one of my
earliest videos on this channel, though, so you'll have to excuse the lackluster quality.
Anyway, getting back to Woman in the Moon, I do think it is unfairly overlooked as one of the
greats of early science-fiction cinema, too often overshadowed by the more memorable spectacle of
Metropolis or the rise of early sci-fi horror in America in the early 1930's. Even I am partially
guilty of downplaying its significance when talking about the likes of Destination Moon, a
groundbreaking movie in its own right that almost certainly owes its entire existence to Fritz
Lang's effort two decades prior. One could easily trace an entire subgenre of spacebound hard sci-fi
film that includes the likes of 2001, Gravity, and The Martian to Woman in the Moon, and for
lovers of those kinds of movies, myself included, it's important to appreciate where it all started.
Personally, though, I will admit it's not as imminently rewatchable as Metropolis,
its more fantastic, big budget cousin. None of the male characters are all that interesting,
and the story suffers from an identity crisis, where the first half feels like
an unresolved spy thriller, while the second half becomes the space adventure audiences expect.
However, Lang's mastery of film is on full display, and since the original negatives
survived to be digitally remastered in 4K, it looks incredible for a silent film, far
better than even Metropolis. You can see Lang's cinematography and montage in high resolution, and
it's far easier to notice subtle touches like the fact that, when the rocket launches, the shadows
of the handle straps loom like a hangman's noose over the two characters ultimately fated to die.
The romantic melodrama sometimes rises to telenovella levels of cheese, which I guess is
fitting for the moon, but the main attraction, aside from the science, is easily the titular
woman herself, Friede. She is a character that absolutely refuses to have her agency taken
from her, standing strong and powerful against her male counterparts, and in my mind, she is
the true hero of the story, not the grouchy and morally uncertain Helius. Say what you want about
Thea von Harbou, but her female characters are some of the most well-written in all of cinema.
As for themes, the film clearly has something to say about greed and money. Greed is the
professor's undoing, and the idea of a small cabal of people controlling all
business and industry in such a way that they are able to keep idealists
and great thinkers from holding any sway is a great bit of cartoonish
hyperbole that no doubt resonates with a certain type of viewer. Other than that,
I think the movie is just about determination and the spirit of pushing boundaries, of being willing to
test ideas others denounce as crazy or to choose drastic action to get what you want out of life.
Regardless of how you view it, though, Woman in the Moon remains a sci-fi classic.
And that's all for today, my fellow Earthlings. What's your favorite hard sci-fi film? Let me
know in the comments, and while you're there, once again, hit those buttons I keep talking
about. Thank you for watching, and until next time, when a giant radioactive creature
not named Godzilla will attack the Golden Gate Bridge, this is the Unapologetic Geek,
telling you to never be ashamed of what you love, as long as you're not hurting anybody.