Take the emotional and cerebral heft of Solaris and 2001: A Space Odyssey. Add the thrilling and technical brilliance of Gravity and First Man. Mix in some spiritual magic in the form of Interstellar. Then thread through these elements the plot of Heart of Darkness, and you'll find something that resembles director James Gray's newest film. When a movie wears its influences so blatantly, it's hard not to use their titles. But Ad Astra is a remarkable gem in that it very much carves its own niche in this series of major names.
In our future, Earth is struck by random power surges to devastating effect. The source, we quickly learn, is the Lima Project: a space mission sent to Neptune to search for extraterrestrial life beyond our solar system, from which no news had been received for sixteen years. U.S. Space Command sends astronaut Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) to investigate and make contact with the Lima Project, as his father -- the leader of the Lima Project -- may still be alive and on board. The intense foreshadowing suggests (and later, it is confirmed) that the father is in fact the cause of these catastrophic surges, and he must be stopped.
It's an awesome space adventure, filled with scenes of thrills and chills. We have moon pirates, predatory research baboons, antimatter cannons and nuclear bombs, and of course the ever-present wonder of space. Replete with awesome visuals, the film is utterly transportive, showcasing the vastness and unpredictability of the dark unknown we've grown familiar with. Space, Ad Astra seeks to remind us, is not the same we've seen in a galaxy far, far away or populated by Norse gods and ragtag guardians. The dangers are real, and none more so than the incredible isolation and loneliness suffered by those who attempt to navigate its depths.
And it is here that I most fell in love with this movie. Sure, it might feel plodding and pretentious, but I found it ethereal and haunting. Much like this year's earlier High Life, we're taken on a ride through the galaxy, yes, but also through a man's heart as he attempts to locate and reconnect with his father, who may be a planetary terrorist. He also seeks reconciliation with his estranged wife and with his own soul, battered as it has been by setbacks, workaholism, and a seeming inability to connect with anything but his fascination with space (read: not being around other people). Brad Pitt's unlikely powerhouse performance reminds us why he's enshrined as a top-shelf actor, as he so deeply internalizes every single emotional and mental beat of this mostly wordless screenplay. His narrative voiceovers betray nothing of his heart, and he intones his cryptic sentences like the dirge they promise.
Meditative, thrilling, and beautiful, this marks what may be a career-best-yet for James Gray, and flexes his muscles beyond the crime dramas he's helmed before. While it won't appease many space-minded sci-fi fans who want Star Trek-level answers to "Who else is out there?" or even Alien-level warnings of "What else is out there?", Ad Astra nevertheless manages a final sequence wholly unique in the genre, embracing a common and commonly unspoken theory about the universe at once more chilling and more hopeful than any I can recall in recent film history: We are, always and ultimately, alone.
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