When we think of the iconic images of the space race – those grainy black and white photos of astronauts bounding across the lunar surface, planting flags in untouched regolith – it’s easy to assume space exploration has always been a diverse, equitable endeavor. The reality is less rosy. For decades, NASA struggled with issues of diversity and inclusion, often minimizing the contributions of minority astronauts.
The Space Race sets its sights on illuminating some of those long-obscured stories. Through extensive archival footage and profoundly candid interviews, directors Lisa Cortés and Diego Hurtado de Mendoza rewind the clock to the early 1960s. It’s here we meet Edward Dwight, selected to be the first Black astronaut trainee in an era still steeped in segregation. Though Dwight never achieved his goal of spaceflight, his resilient story plants the seeds for those who followed – pilots and engineers like Guion Bluford, the first Black astronaut to reach space in 1983, and commander Charles Bolden, who helmed shuttle missions for over a decade.
What emerges is a nuanced and perceptive portrait – one that parallels mankind’s awe-inspiring progress into the stars with the bittersweet, and often painful, struggle for civil rights back on terra firma. The Space Race has set its coordinates for the untold stories of NASA. Are you ready to strap in for the ride?
Trailblazers Among the Stars
The expansive scope of The Space Race allows it to showcase several pivotal figures who broke barriers within NASA’s ranks. At the forefront is Ed Dwight, an ambitious Air Force pilot hand-picked by President Kennedy to integrate the astronaut corps in 1961. Kennedy’s aims may have been lofty, but Dwight faced no shortage of obstacles from peers and superiors alike.
From being ostracized by his classmates to contending with outright racist epithets from Chuck Yeager, Dwight persevered with dignity even as shifting political winds dashed his dreams of spaceflight. His resilience paved the way for others like Guion “Guy” Bluford, an unassuming engineer selected as part of NASA’s first mixed-gender and minority astronaut class. Self-effacing and analytical, Bluford nevertheless made history when Challenger’s engines ignited in 1983, making him the first Black astronaut to slip the surly bonds of Earth.
Bluford’s achievement opened the floodgates for further integration efforts within NASA’s ranks. We meet Fred Gregory, the venerable shuttle commander who led three missions, along with the affable Ronald McNair whose contributions ended tragically in the Challenger disaster. The trajectories of these pioneers soar onwards through successors like Victor Glover, who reflects upon his recent tenure aboard the International Space Station while bearing witness to the turbulent events unfolding back on Earth following George Floyd’s death.
Through archival imagery and profoundly candid interviews, The Space Race immortalizes these icons who boldly ventured where none had gone before.
A Constant Battle Against Gravity
NASA has justly earned its place in the cultural imagination as an agency symbolizing mankind’s insatiable thrust for exploration. But peel back the layers of idealism and a more sobering reality emerges. Behind the curtain, countless unsung heroes faced unyielding headwinds of bigotry as they strove to find their rightful place among the stars.
No story embodies that struggle more than pioneer Edward Dwight. Despite his evident skills as a test pilot, Dwight endured open hostility and prejudice from peers and superiors alike. From Chuck Yeager’s racist barbs to the callous erosion of political support after JFK’s assassination, his selection was troubled from the start. What should have been a triumphant milestone for integration devolved into a dispiriting farce.
The bitterly ironic nature of Dwight’s experience exposed deeper flaws within NASA’s existing culture – one that prized technical competency but balked at affording Black team members the same opportunities for advancement. We see those biases rear their head again through accounts from Frederick Gregory and Guion Bluford, whose decades of distinguished service failed to receive proper mainstream recognition.
While NASA has made strides in representation, a pall of erasure still shrouds many of its minority pioneers. Through emotionally resonant testimonials, The Space Race confronts the true scale of marginalization these audacious explorers faced over generations. It is a sobering reminder that social progress is not bound by gravity or aerodynamics, but through actively embracing difficult truths about the past.
Breaking Barriers Among the Stars and on Earth
The cultural footprint left by The Space Race extends far beyond archival footage of launch pads and desolate lunar vistas. Interwoven with technical milestones is a bittersweet refrain of hopes lifted and dreams denied, one that resonates deeply to the broader struggle for civil rights raging back on Earth.
We glimpse the first sparks of Afrofuturism through Nichelle Nichols’ critical work with NASA recruiting minority astronauts after her trailblazing role on Star Trek. The Space Race also spotlights literary icons like Octavia Butler, whose science fiction offered a generation bold new visions with Black heroes at the helm.
For many early Black astronauts, their tortuous roads to flight were traveled largely in isolation. But over time, bonds between pioneers like Frederick Gregory, Ronald McNair and Guion Bluford fostered a tight-knit fraternity united in their shared adversity. That solidarity holds strong even through recent traumatic events, as today’s vanguard grapples with George Floyd’s death from their distant perch in space.
These intimate stories of camaraderie reveal how space exploration mirrors our earthly struggle towards justice. Much as NASA probes the farthest reaches of the cosmos, The Space Race explores the intersection between mankind’s technical ingenuity and moral character. For generations of forgotten icons, amongst the stars they discovered liberation.
Keeping Our Eyes on the Horizon
In structuring the sweeping narrative of The Space Race, directors Lisa Cortés and Diego Hurtado de Mendoza faced a formidable challenge – synthesizing decades of achievements and adversity into a compelling arc. Their approach is deft yet uncomplicated – a brisk chronological retelling, from the earliest integrative efforts in the Mercury program to the modern era of privatized spaceflight.
This straightforward scaffolding clears the runway for emotional lift-off, courtesy of profoundly candid interviews with over a dozen astronauts and their families. We voyage back in time as these icons relive tales of sacrifice and tribulation in their own unfiltered words. Despite recalling instances of naked hostility from superiors, Ed Dwight regales his experiences with humor and hard-won perspective. Soft-spoken pioneer Guion Bluford downplays his breakthrough achievement with characteristic humility.
Interspersed throughout are evocative snippets of archival footage, tracing triumphant first launches and heartbreaking disasters like the Challenger tragedy. Rather than detracting, this montage of grainy VHS clips and fading Polaroids heightens the intimacy. We feel transported back through the decades, strapped in and braced for the ride alongside those who made history.
Through well-paced interviews and effective archival grounding, The Space Race sends audiences blasting skyward on billowing columns of rocket fuel and rousing human spirit. The final frontier has rarely felt so thrilling yet accessible.
Reaching for the Stars While Grounded in Reality
There’s an indelible sense of majesty conjured by mankind’s race to the stars. The Space Race captures our awe through profoundly personal accounts of NASA’s early integration efforts. By ceding the spotlight to the icons themselves, directors Cortés and Mendoza craft an engaging, humane portrait filled with humor and hard-won perspective.
Despite the emotional potency of these first-hand narratives, The Space Race grapples to reconcile its sweeping scope. In bridging generations of pioneers, the narrative makes brief detours addressing ancillary topics like Afrofuturism before abruptly swerving back. The connections feel compulsory rather than organic, leaving intriguing threads like the accomplished Cuban cosmonaut, Arnaldo Tamayo Méndez, underexplored.
We also get merely a faint glimmer of deeper systemic inequities embedded within NASA’s institutional culture. Chuck Yeager’s naked hostility towards Edward Dwight hints at the everyday racism minority personnel contended with behind closed doors. While the film overlays present-day civil rights struggles into its coda, it stops short of directly confronting the racist structures and economic disparities enabling space exploration.
Nevertheless, The Space Race remains a poignant testament to monumental human achievement in the face of adversity. If moments of inertia keep it from fully reconciling past injustice with today’s realities, the film retains enough heart and propulsive spirit to inspire future generations to carry the torch onwards. By gingerly addressing open wounds in NASA’s past, hope swells that its next giant leap may be towards greater equality.
Looking to the Skies for What Comes Next
Like a rocket slipping free of Earth’s atmosphere, The Space Race propels us on a stirring voyage across decades of loss, achievement and reconciliation. Directors Cortés and Mendoza pilot an uplifting tribute to NASA’s forgotten icons, one leavened with humor and hard-won perspective even amidst adversity.
By ceding the storytelling to the astronauts themselves, we’re offered profoundly moving front-row tickets to history. Leaning in as Charlie Bolden recollects walking past segregated Florida hotels that once refused him and his peers lodging is to confront injustice with empathy and grace. Watching Nichelle Nichols speak of recruiting the next generation of diverse astronauts touches the enduring impact beyond one life, one mission.
The Space Race finds humanity and nuance in NASA’s complicated tapestry – one stained by prejudice yet still rippling with courageous sacrifice. As we gaze ahead through the eyes of modern pioneers like Victor Glover, glimmers of progress kindle hope that space may soon reflect the boundless diversity of human experience.
Though the work remains unfinished, The Space Race guides our 360-degree outlook: back at boots taking small steps across alien soil, forward towards the limitless potential ahead. As long as adversity fails to dim the fire kindled by those past voyagers and dreamers, our shared trajectory leads inexorably to the stars.
The Review
The Space Race
The Space Race rockets viewers on a profoundly poignant journey, chronicling both towering achievements and the adversity endured by generations of minority astronauts pursuing spaceflight. Though its expansive scope can sacrifice sharp focus, the film's candid interviews and balanced perspective remain engaging and accessible. By ceding center stage to these overlooked pioneers, directors Cortés and Mendoza craft a humane portrait filled with humor and grace.
PROS
- Compelling first-hand accounts from NASA trailblazers
- Candid interviews shared with poise and wit
- Chronicles an underexplored period of space history
- Strong archival footage for context and visual interest
- Illuminates obstacles faced by minority astronauts
- Instills hope for future diversity and inclusion efforts
CONS
- Struggles to maintain sharp, cohesive focus
- Brief tangents on ancillary topics interrupt flow
- Systemic racism in NASA not directly confronted
- Cultural impact only lightly touched upon
- Modern progress and shortcomings not fully reconciled
