There is a scene in The American Astronaut in which a borderline malnourished comedian begins telling stand-up variations on the "Hurts Donut" joke¹ in a bar in space. He repeatedly botches it, worse and worse each time, using punch lines like, "Mr. Stevenson stabbed him over and over again in his eye, in his cheek, with a pencil, saying 'Hurts Donut'" (not "Hurts, don't it?"). Even he seems to be confused as to why the audience begins laughing so hard, usually way before the punch line is even reached. When he's finished, he confesses to his audience, which is now hollering with laughter, "I've never understood this joke. But then I've never been to Earth." I get the feeling that director Cory McAbee feels something the same about his film -- that The American Astronaut is something like his big joke, which he might not understand himself. If we don't get it, that's because it wasn't made for Earthlings.

The American Astronaut is a low-budget sci-fi alternative-rock musical (surrealism implied) created by the lead vocalist of the band The Billy Nayer Show, which also performs the film's soundtrack. McAbee plays the lead role as well, Samuel Curtis (which is also the name of a semi-famous Civil War officer). Curtis is in the trade of trading and apparently specializes in live goods. He travels from planet to planet, trading this live creature for that. In this movie, we get to see the trading of a cat named Monkeypuss, a very relatively sexually experienced adolescent boy, and a briefcase containing a, presumably fetal, girl. All the while, he is being followed by Professor Hess, a "birthday boy" who is out to forgive Curtis so that he can kill him, in the meantime killing anyone and everyone even tangentially connected to Curtis. Despite his sinister intent, Curtis claims that Hess is "like family," and he is actually able to provide a convincing explanation behind Hess's murderous logic. When his boy-cargo claims, perhaps for the viewer, "That doesn't make any sense," Curtis confidently reassures him and us, "Yeah, it does."

No matter how you view it, this is a strange film. But, despite its partial inaccessibility, there is also something poetic about it, especially in the relationship between Curtis and Hess, which I wish would have been explored a little more. Its strangeness is also elevated by its musical element, an element that is itself always a little peculiar, and the musical sequences here are often a little weird themselves, whether that weirdness lies in the actual song or in the presentation of the song. However, every one of them is undeniably catchy, whether you're a fan of this rock genre or not. In fact, it is the music that holds this film together. It's sort of the film's excuse for existing.

So, yeah, this is certainly one of those movies that only certain people can enjoy. I said that this movie is poetic, and I have to emphasize that that is the best way to approach it. Don't try digging too deep (though who knows, maybe there is something buried beneath it all); just let the experience wash over you. Accept everything for what it is. In its own right, the film actually comes off as having been directed by a skillful hand, as opposed to some unrestrained "director" creating weird-for-the-sake-of-weird. It is surrealistic, strange, and silly, but it is not at all chaotic. Though you can't really classify this movie as good or bad, you can say that it is successful at doing what it sets out to do. If you are the person who enjoys this sort of thing, then ... well, that says it.