Nobody ever watched Star Wars to see Luke Skywalker fix moisture vaporizers. Nor do they want an entire movie of Clark Kent hunting for phone booths. What to make of a Tintin story that amounts to set-up for a boffo coming attraction?
Destination
Moon
still works fine. While the story itself is kind of static and anticipatory,
the vision and craft of creator Hergé and his growing team of skilled collaborators are on vibrant
display. You expect lush visuals and lovely details, and you get those, but
something else, too: Real-world verisimilitude in comic form.
The story, while not gripping, does pull you in. There is a bit of mystery, a hint of suspense, and a good deal of slapstick comedy to keep fans satisfied. Yes, a lot of standing around rooms talking about stuff, too; Tintin and his gang prove passive observers too much of the time.
I don’t think this is top-drawer Tintin; certainly not on a stand-alone basis. But it doesn’t need to be. As a lead-in, it sets a solid, sober tone.
The story opens with Tintin,
his dog Snowy, and best friend Captain Haddock returning to Haddock’s mansion
home, Marlinspike Hall, apparently fresh off their previous adventure, Land Of Black Gold. Butler Nestor greets them with news that Marlinspike’s other
resident, Professor Calculus, has been mysteriously called away.
Haddock: Calculus is in Syldavia! What’s the
crazy fellow doing there?
Tintin: It’s very odd. He asks us to join him…
Shall we go?
As if that is ever a
question in these books! Two days and two panels later, the pair fly off to the
middle European nation of Syldavia, site of prior adventure King Ottokar’s Sceptre. Last time it offered medieval skullduggery; here it’s future shock.
Not to spoil anything, but
it involves the Moon.
The story takes a while to
reveal this, which may account for the plodding feeling I get while reading it.
To be fair, I felt this more on later re-readings than the first time, when I
was much younger and more easily-impressed. Hergé does keep the wheels turning
with misdirection plays and hints of something ominous ever on the horizon. But
more than any prior or later completed Tintin story, this is prelude more than adventure.
Most of the book finds Hergé setting up the hows and whys
of Calculus’s unique mission. We spend a lot of time learning how spacesuits
work, what makes a rocket fly, and even a cross-dimensional representation of
what a manned spacecraft would look like – drawn when Yuri Gagarin was still in
high school.
The emphasis on practical
mechanics over fantasy rambles of yore requires an adjustment. Yet it works in
a low-key way.
Calculus: Four years ago rich uranium deposits
were found in the heart of the Zmyhlpathian mountains – that is here. The
Syldavian Government immediately embarked on the building of an atomic research
centre… I’m just completing plans for a nuclear-powered rocket in which I
propose to land ON THE MOON!
Calculus goes on to explain
to a disbelieving Haddock that he naturally expects his friends to accompany him.
With some resistance, they do.
Destination Moon certainly moves the series in a
different direction. The surreal fantasy element that built through the 1940s
has entirely disappeared. Political intrigue continues to be a theme, yet of a
vaguer sort. We don’t really know who the bad guys are, and the good guys are a
shadowy lot, too. One appears to be a traitor; much of Destination Moon
is concerned with identifying him before the mission is compromised.
Calculus: Oh misery! Misery! All is lost! Our
secrets, our discoveries, lost! Everything will drop into foreign hands! This
is appalling!
With Hergé saving most of
his ammunition for his follow-up, Explorers On The Moon, the story we
get here involves a lot of walking through corridors. Tintin and Haddock
journey through the Sprodj Atomic Research Centre observing a massive atomic
pile and a test rocket. They get their own green uniforms and are fitted for moon
suits. Even Snowy gets one, “a duffle coat with a windscreen,” the pooch dubs
it.
Calculus’s problematic
hearing is temporarily cured, making him less of a butt of humor than prior
entries. In fact he’s rather imposing here, a figure of genuine authority
for the first time in the series. It’s left to Haddock and Thomson/Thompson to
bring the silliness, which they do with sometimes saggy results. Charming as
they are, you can feel Hergé really straining to work them for comic relief.
Tintin explores the mountains
around the centre for signs of infiltration, running into a gang of bear cubs who
hit him up for sandwiches. It’s so gormless and out of place that it reminded me of the gags at the very beginning of the series, in Tintin In The Land Of The Soviets, back when Hergé was more babysitter than artist.
Tintin scholars do call out
this ropiness of storyline, but with the strong visuals of a working atomic
facility in full hum, it’s hard to cavil too much about those bears. The main
adventure comes when a pair of enemy agents infiltrate the centre via parachute,
not a riveting plot element as it literally drops out of thin air and goes
nowhere, but it is followed by a rocket hijacking via remote control which does
put all of the technical know-how we have been gleaning into sharp focus.
The best sequence in the
book is the reveal of the big rocket, the one built to send Calculus and
company to the Moon. Mentioning that here is not much of a spoiler, since a
frame from this sequence fills the cover of the book. But the panel-by-panel
reveal is something special, unfolding in the form of an uncharacteristic
tantrum by Professor Calculus, who finally has enough of Haddock riding him:
“Slaving for two months
non-stop, working myself to the bone, all to hear myself called a goat! It’s
too much!”
Calculus is so transformed
in this story that at one point we witness him lift a hulking guard off his
feet and deposit him on a coat hook. This is kind of fun, but disorienting
given how Calculus just ambled along in prior books, content to not hear most
of what everyone said. This time, he is more of a bossy know-it-all.
If the story seems a bit
tired, character interaction remains energetic throughout. Not only is Calculus
more developed, but Haddock’s constant apoplexy at all that is unfolding around
him make him more than ever a kind of reader surrogate for this book. Tintin gets into one big scrap, and even get to launch
the test rocket, yet he’s mostly left working the role of narrator, explaining
to his friends (and us readers) what is going on.
Of course, the main reason
people read this is for the sequel. Explorers On The Moon is the book many cite as a milestone in the Tintin series for the way it imagineered a manned lunar voyage well before even a satellite was sent there. As much as Destination
Moon wows with its technical expertise and emphasis on the possible, it is
not the book which actually achieves its title destination. You only get the
liftoff here.
As the first part of a
double act, Destination Moon is clever and enjoyable in the main. A lot
more fat than The Adventures Of Tintin typically delivered around this
time, yes, but some nutritional value, too. Just be sure to stick around for
Part 2.
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