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sometimes you just wanna read a hate review that unloads with both barrels

Fly Me to the Moon’s foundational silliness could have been compensated for, and maybe even turned into the premise for a lightweight but charming romance, if not for two things: the failure to grapple with the larger historical implications of the fake-moon-landing subplot, and the fatal miscasting of Johansson and Tatum as oil-and-water opposites. Casting Johansson as a hypercompetent professional with a dark con-artist past was not the worst idea. Her combination of lush beauty and keen-eyed pragmatism make her believable as a woman used to rallying whatever resources she has to make her way in an era that, as the movie establishes in a few early scenes, offered women few opportunities for success outside of marriage. But if you’re looking for an actor to play a stolid, repressed engineer who’s consumed by regret, why on earth go with Channing Tatum? Tatum is your guy for boyish exuberance, for mischievous seductions and ill-advised-yet-life-changing road trips. If you want a glum, obsessively focused NASA operations dude, Matt Damon or Ben Affleck or, I don’t know, Jesse Plemons is right there for the casting.

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