12 to the Moon (1960)

An expedition led by an American and comprised by a crew of eleven others, each from a different country, sets out to travel to the moon.

Hilariously incompetent sci-fi. As is sometimes the case, IMDB has a user-made review that is short and to the point, and which I will transcribe here (the author is Carolyn Paetow):

[quote]
Could any space flick be worse than The Angry Red Planet? Yes, it could. The script for the disaster at hand is so dopey and disjointed that it could have been scrawled out in crayon by a classroom of third-graders, each child submitting a short scene that teacher then patched together, helter-skelter. As for the actors, some of them are without doubt competent. They've exhibited this in other movies. But, here, with such dipsticky dialogue, no one could ever know. It makes it easy to understand why Tom Conway turned to drink and died broke. The story starts with a big strike against it: twelve characters with little to distinguish most of them. There are nine white guys, two women--Swedish and Japanese--and a Nigerian man whose accent never sounds West African and sometimes slips into Southern American. The hatch is scarcely secured when the inter-ethnic squabbling and recriminations start. Didn't these people get acquainted before blasting off in a rocket? From the amorous behavior of the females with two of the males, one would think so. But maybe there's something in the air--or lack of it. There must be some air, even on the moon, since the spacesuits don't have visors. The ship itself, with its bare-bones instrumentation and lack of even a beep or buzz, must be of such advanced technology that it all but runs itself. But, no, that can't be right. The teen math whiz has to use paper and pen to calculate a path through a meteor shower. The medical personnel has to struggle with wrap-around blood pressure cuffs--which they obviously don't know how to use. The only recorder on board--oh, forget it. There are, in addition to the dozen humans, two cats and two monkeys in plastic cases, two parakeets in a traditional cage, and one spaniel on a leash. The boy genius tells them they've been brought along to see if they'll mate on the moon. In the doggie's case, the answer is probably no. One silly circumstance follows another, but maybe the most asinine is that involving a screen-scrolled message from the Moonmen. Although it's somehow known that they communicate only telepathically, they have chosen to relay a series of repetitious, somewhat hieroglyphic-looking symbols. One crew member decides that the writing looks Chinese (it doesn't) so the Japanese woman is told to translate. She does, without a hitch. Now, who but a very young child could make such an assumption?
[unquote]

Concerning some interesting facts about the film's cinematographer there is another review, also by an IMDB user, which I will also transcribe here but for the last paragraph (the author is boblipton):

[quote]
I have given this movie a rating of 1 because I don't know how to describe the feelings of anger and confusion that washed over me as I watched it. Twelve scientists go to the moon -- taking a cocker spaniel on a leash with them, wouldn't want it to run away -- and the story, though well-intentioned, was tripe, the acting was horrible, the dialogue was stupid and even the science was idiotic gobbledygook -- in 1960 the screenwriters felt no need for anyone to express surprise when there was plenty of breathable air on the moon.
Yes, it clearly had a budget, something in advance of the usual Roger Corman shot-on-three-days-with-what-we-found-in-the-payphone-slot amount of money. But I was getting angry because I couldn't stop watching, even as I wanted to turn the sound off, or at least jab an icepick into my ears. What was going on here...... and then it hit me: they had John Alton as the Director of Photography!
Who, you ask, is John Alton? Well, I would suggest you go over to his IMDb page and see for yourself, but let's put it this way: when you're shooting pictures, the DP is important. A great one can make a mediocre movie great. A bad one can ruin the world's greatest script, director and cast. And in the subjective and opinionated world of commercial art that is film making, if I told you that X was the greatest cinematographer ever, you'd look at me like I was crazy. But if I went before a meeting of the American Society of Cinematographers and announced "John Alton was the greatest cinematographer ever!" The reaction would probably be "Well, I think so-and-so had a little more on the ball, but not a bad choice."
Well, you say to yourself, everyone has his ups and downs, some great careers end badly, sometimes there are no comebacks. But that's not what happened here. Alton was assigned this movie, shot it in his usual impeccable fashion, then went on to his next assignment, Richard Brooks' ELMER GANTRY, then quit. Just went away and didn't keep in touch, and when he called up a third of a century later to ask for tickets to an exhibit for his work that he had heard about -- it's my stuff, at least you can comp me in -- they were surprised he wasn't dead. He explained that it just wasn't worth it. He had enough money, so he left And he lived happily for the next 35 years. And this is the movie -- or one of the movies -- that made him decide to leave. And not shoot, what, twenty, thirty, forty a hundred other movies that could have been great or greater because of his sure touch? Because while it must have been nice to work on great pictures like AN American IN Paris and ELMER GANTRY, he must have felt like a schmuck coming in to work on stuff like this. because the front office told him to. So he looked at his bank book and quit.
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Well, this was another lazy review (mine, I mean, not the ones I quoted), and of course now I will give you the movie's rating.

Rating: 14