Duncan Jones’ Moon (reviewed here by Donald Clarke) is a beautiful thing, all solitude and lunar landscapes, a kind of meditation on loneliness that sets your spine tingling. The plot has its own delights, and observations on business and science and the essence of human experience, but what is haunting about this film (seen last night in the Lighthouse Cinema, which cinema is worth a mention in its own right) is how it examines the solitary nature of existence and our need for contact. Where it works is not, however, in its sci-fi twists and hints at the manipulative realities of profit-mongers, but in its portrayal of the machinations of the human mind. Sam Rockwell is affecting, the pocked face of the moon a beauty, and the distant backdrop of this small drama played out among the stars somehow brings it closer. Go see it.