There are few adventures in human history so photographically charismatic as those of the Apollo missions to the moon. The weird, cinematic sterility of metal and sunlight in a vacuum; Slatted footprints in grey dust criss-crossing terrain unmolested by wind; spacesuits with mirrored visors distorting views of an alien world, and of our own. Then there are the interiors: tired-looking men in orderly-white fatigues or iconic two-tone skull-caps, regarding grey instrument binnacles studded with switchgear that looks part computer, part heavy bomber.

Also famous are the photographs’ physical qualities. Almost invariably they were square-format slides of cool, crisp Kodak shot on modified Swedish cameras through precise German lenses—or else stills captured from grainy 16mm movie reels. It’s