Friday, Apr. 20, 1962
Astronaughts & FBIdiots
Moon Pilot (Buena Vista). Sacred cows, if skillfully milked, produce tuns of fun; but Hollywood usually avoids them because they often kick back. The more reason to be pleasantly surprised that Walt Disney, not specifically known for socio-political daring, should have herded three of these pampered critters--the FBI, the Air Force and the astronaut program --into the same plot. Under the deft manipulation of Director James Neilson and Scenarist Maurice Tombragel, they produce a fairly steady stream of healthy nonsense.
The Air Force is represented by a cigar-chomping general who chews out his missilemen every hour on the hour ("I want no scrubs, no bugs, no red lights and no excuses!") and LeMay or LeMay not be recognizable. The astronauts are represented by a group of clean-cut, squarejawed, blue-eyed young men in the prime of life and the pink of condition.
"Gentlemen," brffsks the general, "we are sending a man around the moon--this week! I'm asking for volunteers." The astronaughts turn pale, drop their eyes, examine their nails, twiddle their fingers, fiddle with buttons, brush their sleeves, blow their noses. All at once an astro-chimp, who happens to be standing by, grabs a fork and playfully jabs one of these reluctant Shepards of kingdom come (Tom Tryon) in the behind. "Yeeee-ooww!" he squalls. "That's our man!" the general bawls.
Terrified, the hero requests compassionate leave--he wants to see his dear old mother before he blasts off. Request granted. On the way home the astrochump gets airsick--he doesn't like flying, but there wasn't enough time to go by bus--and is soothed by a beautiful stranger (Dany Saval) with a foreign accent, who calls herself Lyrae and can read his mind. Since the plane carries reading material of obviously greater interest (plane schedules, comic books, etc.), the hero concludes that Lyrae must be a Russian spy. In panic he calls the general and the general calls the "Federal Security Agency."
Enter FSAgent McCloskey (Edmond O'Brien), a sort of secret inoperative who growls all the right things ("Send this to the lab--and tell them to rush it ... There will be NO slipups!"), does all the wrong things, and spends his spare time staring wide-eyed at the cops-and-robbers shows on TV. Since McCloskey has never caught anything more elusive than a cold, it's a cinch he can't catch Lyrae, who has been sent from a friendly planet to correct a defect in the moon rocket. Alas, such is interplanetary life, she falls in love with the hero, and with the help of feminine methods that seem to be universally practiced persuades him to turn the moon rocket into ("Captain? H-his voice is changing. No! Th-there's a woman in the capsule! CAPTAIN! WHAT'S GOING ON UP THERE!") a honeymoon rocket. At the fade all systems are goo.
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