The news that Moon has been chosen as best film of 2009 (non-genre-specific) and its director Duncan Jones honoured as best debut director in the British Independent Film Awards gives pause for thought.
Earth is dependent for its power resources on Helium-3 scraped off the surface of our satellite by big mining machines (vaguely plausible) and sent to Earth in space torpedoes. Supervising all of this lunar activity is precisely one chap called Sam who lives in something the size of a modest shopping mall, under the illusion that he's on a short-term contract. (There's another nifty mall in the Dr Who Waters of Mars episode: enormous empty pressurised spaces for running through in panic, that must weigh hundreds of tons, although allegedly cargo space on the Mars-bound spaceship was so limited that they couldn't even take a bicycle with them to cover the unnecessary distances from A to B and C and D and E.)
Sam non-communicates with his loving wife back home by recorded videos