You would think that a film about Neil Armstrong, a man who landed on the Moon using stone knives and bearskins – comparatively speaking, and as a certain pointy-eared Starfleet officer might put it – would be a little more celebratory in tone.
Suffice to say that if you go into First Man expecting an exuberant celebration of humankind’s first forays into space in the vein of 1983’s The Right Stuff, then your approach vector is all wrong.
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