This one movie is the bane of my film-majorly existence. I’ve watched it in at least five separate classes, interpreted it for countless exam questions—even been subjected to the Smashing Pumpkins music video based on it in one discussion section. Now George Méliès’ Voyage dans la lune has found its way into my life yet again, the cockroach-cum-zombie that just will not stop coming back, no matter how many times I analyze it away.
