The Eagle has landed.

Outer space being the unfathomable void it is, you wouldn’t necessarily see it lending itself to personal storytelling at all. The exploration of space is a cold and merciless pursuit, one that’d be hard work for any filmmaker to make relatable or intimate in any way.

It’s therefor nothing short of a miracle that some of the most personal and deeply human stories in cinema history have come from such a cosmic backdrop. From 2001 to Moon via Interstellar, the vast blankness of space has become the perfect canvas for all manner of existential musings through the years.

Whether science fact or science fiction, the very best space-based films, no matter how outlandish or farfetched, are able to ground themselves in their characters. Juggling the grand spectacle of the cosmos while anchoring the story to something deeply human, the very best examples of the genre are always far more than they appear on the surface.

To make something as enormous as space personal and emotionally resonant without resorting to cheap tricks isn’t easy and there have been plenty of movies that have either failed to get the balance right or missed their target completely.

Using the story of the Apollo 11 mission, one of the biggest and most ambitious undertakings in aeronautics history, may not sound conducive to intimate, thought-provoking storytelling, yet what unfolds in First Man is one of the most deeply human and profoundly affecting films of the year.

After the death of his daughter and several unsuccessful X-15 flights, NASA civilian test pilot Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) finds himself temporarily grounded. Undeterred, Armstrong applies to NASA Astronaut Group 2 and is accepted, before finding himself caught in the middle of a broiling Space Race between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Based on the book of the same name by James R. Hansen, First Man recounts Armstrong’s journey in the years leading up to becoming the first human to set foot on the moon, replete with all the pain and sacrifices that came with it.

There are few better demonstrations of the duality of universal and personal than the story behind First Man and, more specifically, Neil Armstrong himself. As the tale of a deeply introverted and emotionally withdrawn man chosen to lead such an otherworldly, history-making mission, the film perfectly blends awe-inspiring spectacle with heart-breaking intimacy without ever sacrificing either.

While it’d be easy to get swept up in all the flag-waving jingoism and technological dick swinging of the Space Race, First Man’s crowning achievement is to pull away from the bigger picture and focus squarely on those at its heart, namely Neil and his wife Janet. In doing so, director Damien Chazelle turns something of both national and international significance into a voyage so personal it’s often hard to bare.

For many, First Man will come as something of a surprise and possibly not a pleasant one. Although at first glance the film appears to take the broad, crowd-pleasing route that made Apollo 13 such a success, First Man must be approached in an entirely different manner to be fully appreciated. The mission to the moon is obviously there, together with all the drama and jeopardy that came with it, yet this is a far more myopic approach to the subject than we’ve ever seen before.

With a slow, deliberate pace, unflinching visuals, and a stubborn emotional restraint; First Man is an intimate piece of independent filmmaking dressed up as a grand Hollywood spectacle. As the perfect embodiment of its protagonist, Damien Chazelle’s film is at once stoic, unassuming, and quietly heroic; and all the better for it.

Rapidly marking himself out as one of the most promising directors of his generation, Chazelle has yet again lobbed a filmmaking curveball our way, following up the golden age Hollywood tones of La La Land with something wildly different. It’s a testament to Chazelle’s burgeoning prowess and versatility as a filmmaker that, while the vibrancy here is dialled down significantly, First Man still feels every bit a Damien Chazelle film; complete with the kind of introverted, emotionally fractured geniuses that have been the director’s calling card since Whiplash.

Ensuring that our attention is never on anyone but Neil and Janet the entire time, Chazelle does a superb job of avoiding all temptation to let the mission drown them out, even as the politics and the science threaten to take over. And boy, have the politics fought to consume the film externally.

Without wanting to delve too deeply into those murky depths, any argument concerning the U.S. flag’s lack of prominence in the film’s final moments is null and void in the context of what First Man is attempting to achieve. While it’s hard to avoid politicisation entirely with anything surrounding the Space Race (something Chazelle certainly doesn’t shy from), the film succeeds precisely because of its steadfast refusal to pull focus away from its protagonist.

Considering the enormity of the Apollo 11 mission in the grand scheme of human exploration, it’s downright remarkable just how personal First Man is. This is not only achieved through Chazelle’s superb eye for cinematic intimacy, but via Justin Hurwitz’s quietly evocative score and the technical brilliance of cinematographer Linus Sangren.

As a viewing experience, First Man is both an incredibly visceral and often invasive one that not only sees the camera stay up close and personal with Armstrong at every given opportunity but crams you right in there with him on his missions. As Armstrong and co squeeze themselves into what amounts to a rocket-fuelled tin can, we’re uncomfortably bundled in for the ride, as Chazelle and Sangren appear determined to make this our journey as much as theirs.

Switching to grainy 16mm before tossing you about like a sock in a tumble dryer, Chazelle’s take on space travel is certainly not for the fainthearted, providing the kind of nauseating immersive experience not even the visual dynamism of Gravity can provide. Violent, disorientating, and often incomprehensible; these brash visuals nonetheless invite the audience to feel the full tension and terror of space exploration’s early days while pulling you further into the minds and bodies of those at its heart.

Which all leads to the money shot. The moment many will be eagerly waiting for – the landing itself. Of course, it’s not exactly a spoiler to say that they make it to the moon in one piece, touching on all the famous moments along the way; however, it’s in the delivery of these iconic incidents that First Man truly succeeds. As an embodiment of the film itself, First Man’s finale is both understated and introspective, with everything delivered casually and without bombast, contrasting beautifully with the awe-inspiring visuals engulfing them.

As we switch to 70mm IMAX cameras on the moon’s surface, we’re treated to a stunning moment of reflection at the last, with the moon’s surface as hauntingly picturesque as you’ve ever seen it on the big screen. It’s in these closing moments that the true beauty of First Man hits home, as we’re left alone with Armstrong to ponder the sheer weight of pain, suffering, and sacrifice that got him there.

It’s in this moment that we’re allowed a brief respite from all the politics, mechanics, and death to reflect on the sacrifice that’s taken us to this point. It’s one in a string of wonderfully poignant moments that Ryan Gosling delivers to perfection; however, while Gosling is undoubtedly the film’s star, perfectly embodying Neil Armstrong in so many ways, it’s Claire Foy who steals the show from under his nose.

First Man is every bit Janet’s journey as it is Neil’s, as she transcends the stereotypical wife role to offer something far more substantial. This focus enables us to dive deep into the devastating side-effects of life married to an astronaut, and Foy beautifully embodies all the pain, anger, pride, and burning anxieties swirling around inside Janet, all without losing the beautiful subtleties of the character.

With a husband locked away in an emotional cage, physically and mentally unable (or unwilling) to release himself, it’s left to Janet to become the audience’s surrogate and the voice of reason just when the film needs it the most. It’s a performance that’s both immensely powerful and devastatingly delicate and one that will hopefully see some recognition for Foy come awards season.

As the perfect counterbalance to this, Gosling plays Armstrong exactly how the man himself would’ve wanted and while his reserved mannerisms and icy exterior may be off-putting to some, it’s precisely this restraint that makes the performance so powerful. The burning loss of his daughter stays with Armstrong throughout the entire mission, yet Gosling never overplays it, instead using the loss as a beautifully haunting thread that gives him the strength to continue, while simultaneously holding him back.

It’s the kind of quiet intensity that we’ve come to expect from Ryan Gosling, yet there’s something more at play here. This is far more than the monosyllabic brooding that’s become Gosling’s trademark through the years, it’s a performance stuffed with nuance, pitch-perfect mannerisms, and an unassuming heroism that marks this out as one of the best turns of the actor’s career.

First Man isn’t the kind of rabble-rousing, fist-pumping space adventure many will be expecting, if not demanding. It’s far more than that. While it certainly has elements of Apollo 13 and The Right Stuff about it, this is a deeply personal, low-key story wrapped up as an enormous blockbuster and it’s through this that First Man elevates itself above the rest.

The moon and our determination to get there may be huge, yet First Man is less concerned with the Space Race itself, more so its effects on those caught up in it. This is essentially a space film about anything but space. It’s a deeply satisfying exploration of the grief, loneliness, and alienation of one man - the first man - and the personal sacrifices made to defeat those demons.

Littered with tragedy and led by a central figure whose reluctant heroics and closed book demeanour often come off as cold, it’s a credit to Damien Chazelle’s burgeoning prowess as a filmmaker and the unassuming power of Ryan Gosling and Claire Foy’s performances that First Man is the resounding, quietly uplifting, success it is. The film’s deliberate pace and resistance to showmanship may not be for everyone, yet they feel like the perfect embodiment of Neil Armstrong himself and allow for a grand tale of universal exploration to be condensed into one of the most devastatingly personal movies of the year.