Storytelling Lessons from A Trip to the Moon by Méliès
Why A Trip to the Moon Still Matters for Writers
In graduate film school, I first watched Georges Méliès’s short 1902 French film A Trip to the Moon (Le Voyage dans la Lune). At the time, I didn’t really appreciate all it had to offer. It’s a classic, for sure, often cited for its technical innovations, and I think that’s why we, as film students, were all assigned to watch it. I think it was part of a Film History course. I looked at it last night from a writer’s perspective, and I sense huge lessons were missing from my academic instruction (who would ever think that could happen, right?). It’s not only a historical timepiece, thankfully preserved, but it is one of the first lessons on cinematic storytelling of value to writers. It is a short film of only fourteen minutes but full of lessons. This little nugget offers timeless insight into modern storytelling's nascent art and craft regardless of what you write (fiction, nonfiction, poetry, short stories, plays, screenplays). Before you read this, I encourage you to look at the film if you haven’t seen it (or revisit it if it’s been a while); you can find it in numerous places on YouTube for free. My favorite, and the one I watched to write this discussion, can be found here with a fantastic horn score by Billi Brass Quintet (Music by David Short). With this film, I could discuss sets, costumes, conflicts, ironies, and themes, but what I really want to discuss is storytelling: how to build immersive narratives, intrigue, suspense, wonder, emotional engagement, and audience attentiveness. View this as a visual short story. It’s dated, yes, but it has much to teach us. And at fourteen minutes—or fifteen, as in the cited version—it only takes a moment to refresh oneself on the story. I love how they head to the moon dressed in their proper hats and coats and carrying snappy walking canes.
A Groundbreaking Film That Changed Storytelling
Méliès was a magician before he was a filmmaker; you can see this in the film. Scrolls turn into chairs, the spaceship suddenly disappears in a scene change, smoke and special effects add to the primitive CG charm, comets fly by, umbrellas turn into mushrooms, and, alas, spoiler alert, they do find signs of life on the moon in addition to celestial beings watching over them in both pleasant and non-pleasant ways amid wonderful set designs in every frame. Lewis Carroll would have loved it. I think as a magician, Méliès understood, as we should today, that stories in whatever format are illusions meant to captivate, and this is done through the writer’s artistry of structured storytelling that hits on the numerous trigger points that excite and captivate the human brain. What he has to offer here can be applied across genres from thriller plots to gothic mysteries, sci-fi to action, and I’d like to break it down to give you some insight into how this might work in your current work-in-progress.
What Writers Can Learn from A Trip to the Moon
Méliès’s film is more than an early sci-fi fantasy. Like the short stories I used to teach when I was at university, it’s a mini-masterclass in mystery, suspense, horror, action, romance, and even (though certainly unintentional in 1902 Paris) Southern Gothic writing.
Mystery & Suspense: Keeping Readers Hooked
At its core, like most good stories, A Trip to the Moon follows a classic mystery structure. What’s important is defining the term “mystery.” It doesn’t have to be a dead body (though we get plenty of smoke from the terminated Selenites, the bouncy little beings the daring travelers find on the moon), but mystery, more than anything, has to do with unanswered questions. We start with a bold expedition—especially for the time—of scientists traveling to an unknown world. Why are they going? (Mystery) What will they find when they get there? (Mystery) They come upon threats to the end objectives (present in all mysteries [in this case, the hostile Selenites who do not like the earthy visitors on their “planet”]). What will happen? We stay focused on finding out. These mysterious techniques can be used in any story in any genre. There doesn’t have to be a murder or even a crime. All there needs to be is a reader asking who, what, when, where, and why.
Horror & the Uncanny: The Power of the Unknown
Every story thrives with the addition of horror. Nonwriters think of horror as the undead or beings climbing out of Hell. Not so. Horror is taking elements that are familiar and then making them, through a writer’s choices, unsettling. The Selenites look like humans, but they are not. They are acrobatic beings out to do one harm. I can only imagine how early filmgoers felt when they saw these alien beings. There’s nothing gory. It’s just not right. Even the moon itself, a place we look at nightly that seems so full of romance and wonder, becomes an eerie, desolate, and unpredictable place full of fantastical beings (both on the moon and celestial), strange weather, and mushrooms that look like trees. It is all unsettling because it is not what we expect.
As writers, we need to remember that horror, at its basic definition, is not about gore. It is about unease (which can include gore). That’s what Méliès created. That’s what we should build in our stories. The best uses of horror come when we manipulate the unknown. As writers, we play with the normal. We hint that something is lurking in the shadows, that all might not be right, that what you are thinking may not be accurate, what things defy natural, social, relational, or personal law, and what can add layers of uneasy tension and mood. Look at your work-in-progress and see where you can capitalize on this.
Action & Momentum: Driving the Narrative Forward
Despite being a silent film (or maybe because of it), A Trip to the Moon is fast-paced and action-packed. Movement is constant, and events are extreme. The elders don’t just poo-poo the idea at the beginning; they riot. The scientists don’t just land on the moon; they crash. They don’t just explore the moon; they find themselves immediately in a hostile environment and encounter danger from the Selenites. And it is linear. Every action sequence leads to the following action sequence. It never stops.
Forward movement is vital in a story. Movement can be many things: environmental, relational, societal, personal, it doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that something is going on that moves a story forward and keeps the reader engaged. It’s all the balls balancing in the air. Even in slow-burning mysteries, something always needs to be happening: an argument, a revelation, an external threat. Look at your work-in-progress and check if every paragraph, every dialogue sequence, and every description is moving your story forward in some action way. Avoid anything static. Static kills a story.
Romance & Grand Gestures: Emotion in Storytelling
A Trip to the Moon is not a romance but has general elements that produce the same emotional spectacle. Even when your story doesn’t have love interests, you can still feel love and adoration in other forms. You can even be in love with life! In A Trip to the Moon, upon the return of the scientists to Earth, they are greeted by adoring cheering crowds mirroring the final scene where the love of the people is won or reaffirmed. The same thing happens at the end of the original Star Wars movie. It is a feeling of love from the crowd to those on stage.
Romance in any story is a grand gesture. Whether whispered in a line or the accolade of a charmed crowd, love is anything that can be celebrated, declared, or even fought for. Look for these emotional moments in your work-in-progress. Amplify them. Think outside the “romance” box and look for the draw of that intimate emotion that can come in many forms beyond simple hugs and kisses. When raised to their highest point, no matter what they are, emotional stakes create unforgettable moments for the viewers.
Southern Gothic & Decay: The Beauty of Ruins
Who would have thought some nutty academic (me) would construe a French film shot in 1902 as a great example of Southern Gothic? Well, I guess once a Southerner, always a Southerner, and we see it no matter where it comes from!
Though A Trip to the Moon is a sci-fi adventure, it still has elements of what we think of as Southern Gothic. There is a sense of decay (the Moon’s crumbling, hostile, and less-than-romantic landscape—far from what it initially appeared to be to the maybe star-crossed lovers), secrets of the past (the unknown civilization of the Selenites—we never expected to see them there disrupting the world as Southerners might think it ought to be), and the collision of wonder and horror (the Moon’s beauty—or maybe a better word in this section: façade—hiding hidden dangers figurately beneath the surface of what appears to be one thing, but at the core is another).
This is a personal bias, but the Southern Gothic technique can be used everywhere: look to blend the normal of your story with the subtext of grand decay. This will create a setting that is both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Key Takeaways for Writers and Storytellers
Forget it is a black-and-white early film, forget that it is a massive precursor of what the film industry could become, forget that it was a revolution when it was made, forget it is taught (maybe poorly) in film classes across the world, and look at it as a story and a story only. It is a perfect lesson on how to create a timeless narrative. That’s why we’re all still watching it. It could be innovative, but no one would teach it if it were horrible. It’s the underlying story that counts, and it is the underlying techniques that we can emulate.
Building Wonder and Suspense in Any Genre
Méliès, as a magician first before a filmmaker, understood that wonder and suspense are intricate to narrative. Wonder pulls readers in. Suspense keeps them hooked. Mystery and unanswered questions keep them thinking. Thrillers move us forward with the threat of impending harm. Action continues the forward motion and provides the train tracks upon which the story can run. Romance—the desire to be accepted, loved, and lauded—strikes our inner chord. Horror and elements of Southern Gothic make us feel at ease and sometimes fill our hearts with dread. In any genre, in any story, in any of your works-in-progress, you can take advantage of these techniques. Use them. Great storytellers have been using them for ages.
Creating Visual Impact in Writing Like Méliès Did in Film
Even though they are only symbols—words on a page—follow Méliès grand example and use these groundbreaking techniques to create emotionally and mentally visually striking scenes; paint these pictures with your words. Use specific details, allow surprises, vary action and sentence rhythm, and show, don’t tell. Let the readers see the scene unfold in their minds, just as if they were watching a short film like A Trip to the Moon.
Final Thoughts: Timeless Lessons from a Cinematic Pioneer
Méliès was a magician, but then, as writers, aren’t we all? At only fourteen minutes, A Trip to the Moon is a perfect example of what can be accomplished within a narrative structure—mystery, thriller, suspense, action, romance, horror—all within one short space of time. Storytelling is about illusion, momentum, and wonder, regardless of the genre, medium, or length. Look at your work. Tear it apart. Use it to transport readers somewhere they don’t expect—even if not to the Moon—but somewhere where the journey changes them. Méliès’ theme was to inspire his filmgoers to courage-up and go where no one had gone before so they could return to the accolades of the adoring crowds. Do the same with your characters. Give the same experience to your readers. We can all be changed by an exciting journey into another world or the hollows of ourselves.
