Fortress Party 2024 - The Fake Moon Landing

The "Moon Landing" was actually filmed in an MGM soundstage. Here's the proof.

I need to take a moment to celbrate this lunar rover. Steve "Skippy" Hankes built this from foam, PVC, and a toy umbrella. I overheard him telling an admirer that it took him about 100 hours of labor, and I believe it.

My contribution to this was adding a canister of Tang to the front bumper. 

The room wouldn't be complete without the director (voiced by Malcolm) barking orders at the astronauts and crew. 

Fake Moon Landing Audio

Here is the script of that audio clip: 

Neil. You’re a small town boy from Ohio. Give me curiosity. Give me wonder. Give me, “I can’t believe we pulled this shit off.” You’re not just an astronaut, you’re a poet. A brave, cool poet with a whole bathroom in his pants.

What? Okay, listen, I just got word that Soviets are trying to scoop us. As we speak, they are in a soundstage with three cosmonauts and a grizzly bear planting the Soviet Flag on Pluto. They are planting the grizzly bear on Pluto in the name of U.S.S.R. We got to pick up the pace, people. 

And… action! Neil, slower steps—think majestic, like you’re walking on air. Because you air. Okay, you're bouncing a bit too much! Dial it back—this is not a trampoline park. 

Where’s LInda? Lose the 'Caution: Low Gravity' sign. People will just get it. I don’t pay you to think. Just do it. 

I know the square Earth backdrop is more believable, but this is a movie, people. It’s fantasy. We want Joe Public to suspend his disbelief and imagine the Earth is round. Yes, and that it rotates clockwise. 

Wardrobe! Let’s lose the sequins. The last thing we want is for people to watch this and invent disco. 

Okay, Neil, you’re a humble astronaut. More majestic footprints. Less pelvic thrusting. 

Remember, if anyone asks, this is a training simulation. Keep your NDA in your pocket at all times, people. Even if you’re buying coffee. And I don’t want to see any NASA badges in the trash when you leave. 

What? No. No! You don’t get to take your helmet off and eat the freeze dried ice cream during a take. Jesus, man. I don’t care if you’re LOUIS Armstrong. The helmet stays on.   

Michael, for the last time, you’re the guy stuck in the ship—no screen time for you. SAG-AFTRA rules, buddy. You’re listed as 'Non-speaking Supporting Astronaut #3,' so stop trying to ad-lib from the command module! No, Mike, no. Yelling ‘Can you see me from there?!’ out the window does not count as a speaking role. (To assistant) If Collins sneaks out of that module again, someone shove him back in—he’s background talent, not principal!

The Pentagon wants this footage to scream ‘America is #1,’ so get me more flags on set. More. Flags. Make them billowier. In fact, it would help if you two literally screamed “America is #1” during your moonwalk. 

Okay, let’s sweep up the footprints and let’s get another take. This needs to look so good Khrushchev spits out his vodka when he sees it.

The line is “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” Why do you keep saying “mannequin-kind?”

We’ve got to wrap this up, we’re filming Woodstock in the next soundstage on Saturday, and that Hamburger Hill Vietnam footage next week. 

I’ve just gotten word that President Nixon wants us to do some outtakes that we can send to the Soviets, where both of you are flipping off the camera and grabbing your junk. 

Good, good! Now Buzz, don’t look right at the camera here. Now look at the camera. No, don’t. Stop looking at the camera! Okay, now look at the camera. And wave. Make it look accidental. I’m on the moon, and I accidentally waved. Okay, now with purpose. Good, and… cut.

You’re calm, you’re confident. Be those things, but there’s that little sparkle of disbelief in your eyes. You’re a pioneer—but relatable. I want every kid in America to look at you and think, “I wish I was wearing a condom catheter and low gravity fecal containment unit like Neil Armstrong” 

Marv, we’ve got one shot at faking history, and right now you are failing at faking sand. We’re in LA. You can’t trip over your own nuts without finding a mouthful of sand. What am I talking about? What are YOU talking about? Sprinkle more S-A-N-D, and then you’re fired. First the sand, then get out of my soundstage and never work in Hollywood again. But before you go, tell Dottie her stupid stars look like a grid. Scatter them more randomly. 

I want more wires on the rover. But hide them. More hidden wires. I don’t want anyone to see them, but everyone to know they are there, and be impressed with how many wires this thing needs.