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Moon Journey |
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Andrew Haydon |
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It seems that there are two sorts of satire. The first and more conventional form takes pains to highlight hypocrisy, puncture pomposity and attack the powerful; the second sort takes a very silly thing and highlights how silly it was in the first place by making it even sillier. Moon Journey falls happily into the latter camp. It's not unlike the set-up of
Alice Lowe's Perrier Award winning show Garth Marenghi's Netherhead two years
ago. What that did for horror novels from the eighties, Moon Journey does to
Kate Bush, the late seventies and British science-fiction TV series, in equal
measure. Moon Journey purports to be a
rock-opera from 1979, written by Maggie Moss (Lowe) and her prog-rock band
Triangle, set in an apocalyptic future 'perhaps as near as 1982', when the
earth has been overrun by robots and computers and the human race has been all
but wiped out. Enter Moss, a 'lone witch, sorceress, lover, musician and
diva", who could be "the chosen one', sent to save the earth, if
only she can overcome her self-imposed exile in outer space. Cue a series of off-the-wall sci-fi pastiches in which
Moss, with her two companions, travels across space via a Time Placenta,
meeting a bewildering array of daft-looking aliens before arriving back on the
moon only to witness... ah hell, I'm not telling you the ending. This zippy eco-parable is
interspersed with songs from the fictional oeuvre of Triangle, which range
from the likeably poppy to the outright daft. Tongue firmly in cheek
throughout, the only worry is how much this reviewer wouldn't have minded if
it had not even been a parody.
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