The Mouse on the Moon 1963

Financial disaster looms for Grand Fenwick when the country’s only export, wine, begins exploding in the faces of would‑be drinkers. Grand Duchess Gloriana XIII, played by Margaret Rutherford, faces the crisis with a mixture of old‑world charm and stubborn poise as the duchy slides toward financial collapse. To save the realm, the government’s cunning Prime Minister Rupert Mountjoy, [Ron Moody], hatches a plan that sounds almost too good to be true: appeal to the United States for a loan, ostensibly to fund Grand Fenwick’s entry in the race to the Moon, but really to rescue the duchy while delivering a sly promotion of television and modern plumbing so the prime minister can enjoy a hot bath in comfort. He calculates that the Americans will not swallow the tale whole, yet they may view the half‑million dollars he asks for as cheap propaganda in support of their grandiose calls for international space cooperation. The twist is sweeter still when the Americans respond with a gift that doubles the loan amount, a gesture Mountjoy greets with gleeful triumph. The Soviets, not wishing to be outdone, answer with their own competitive remark—a rather antiquated rocket, whose nose cone even shatters a Parliament window in the process.

Mountjoy seeks out resident scientist Professor Kokintz, [David Kossoff], and asks him to choreograph a tiny explosion during the “launch” to make the mission appear spent, as if the money has already gone toward real space achievement. At the same time, the news media spins a cheerful narrative of international cooperation in space, proudly citing American funding, Soviet rocket technology, and even a British‑made watch worn by Vincent as part of the moon mission’s charm. The public eats it up, and Mountjoy’s gamble seems to be paying off—until the personal side of the plan begins to surface.

Vincent Mountjoy returns from England with the air of a young man who has absorbed a strong sense of fair play and a genuine desire to become an astronaut. Mountjoy’s disappointment at his son’s honesty is tempered by Kokintz’s startling discovery: the exploding wine, if treated correctly, could serve as efficient rocket fuel. The two men begin quietly preparing the ship for a real launch, turning a farce into a covert propulsion project. Meanwhile, Maurice Spender, a bumbling spy sent by cautious British officials, tours the ship and reports back that it’s all a hoax—a revelation that adds comic tension as the crew presses forward.

The moment of truth arrives when Mountjoy invites the Americans, Soviets, British, and other European dignitaries to witness the launch. To everyone’s astonishment, the rocket lifts off with Kokintz and Vincent aboard, and Kokintz calculates a three‑week journey to the Moon. The arena of global prestige buzzes with excitement as the rival powers scramble to beat the launch, racing their own rockets ahead of schedule. In a twist of fate, Vincent accidentally flips a switch, accelerating the vessel and making him and Kokintz the first humans to set foot on the Moon. The latecomers find themselves left in the dust, nearly docking with the wrong ships and then hitching a ride home with Kokintz and Vincent when their own return attempts go awry.

Back on Earth, the return is marked not by triumph alone but by a flurry of diplomatic posturing as the Americans and Soviets try to salvage a propaganda victory, while the British and other European figures debate what really happened. In the end, the memorial ceremony in Grand Fenwick turns away from the geopolitical squabbles and toward a symbol of triumph: Grand Duchess Gloriana XIII unveils a statue commemorating the Moon mission, a cheeky, quiet nod to the country’s unlikely role in one of the era’s most theatrical space‑aged hoaxes.