Slow-burning sci-fi beauty.

As you’ve probably heard, space is the final frontier. Even as we find ways to look further and further into the depths of the universe and our understanding of what’s out there grows by the day, space remains one of the last true unknowns.

Who knows when the first human looked up at the stars and dreamt about getting out there. I can imagine its blown the minds of many throughout history. However, what’s for sure is that we’ve been telling stories of voyaging into the great unknown for longer than the novel was even a thing. And then, just like that, film came along, took those wild tales of distant worlds and gave them life.

Going way back to Georges Méliès’ seminal A Trip to the Moon, we’ve been making movies about space since the dawn of cinema. Yet, like no other subject in film’s history, space has rarely actually been about space. Even in the biggest blockbusters, outer space has been used as a symbol for something far more insular, with everything from 2001: A Space Odyssey to Alien laying out the epic vista of the cosmos as a setting to explore the inner mechanisms of humanity.

Despite its enormous, galaxy-spanning plot, Ad Astra fully embraces this tradition as the film explicitly and unequivocally takes its cosmic locale and makes it all about the inner space of one man.

Thirty years after pioneering astronaut Clifford McBride (Tommy Lee Jones) went AWOL on a daring mission into deep space, his fearless son Roy (Brad Pitt) must journey into the outer reaches of the solar system for answers on his missing father and the mysterious power surges that threaten the stability of the entire universe. But as the surges grow stronger and the true horror of his mission slowly reveals itself, Roy is forced to battle internal and external demons for the sake of both himself and humanity.

The scope of Ad Astra is huge – the 2.7 billion miles between Earth and Neptune to be precise – yet it’s one of the most painfully intimate movies of the year. Using this broad a canvas to tell such a personal story is not an easy one and comes fraught with as many dangers as Roy McBride encounters in the hellish depths of space, however, writer-director James Gray navigates the narrative with skill, nous, and an otherworldly level of restraint.

It almost doesn’t need saying but Ad Astra is less about space exploration, than a deep dive into fatherhood. In an approach that’s often far from subtle, the further Roy McBride’s mission takes him into the galaxy, the deeper James Gray’s script probes the inner mechanisms of fractured paternity.

Expressed through Roy’s ever-present (and often over-cooked) voiceover, the film’s script leaves little doubt about its mission as an acute dissection of fatherhood and while the approach may feel heavy-handed at times, the result is nonetheless a success. At once meditative and utterly absorbing, Ad Astra’s relentless tenacity to pick apart a form of hyper-masculinity that has been a consistent aspect of science fiction cinema for years is immensely impressive. 

As you may have noticed, space-based movies have been something of a sausage-fest for quite some time. Ad Astra doesn’t change that – in fact it doubles down on it with a largely male core cast – yet, while the film won’t be passing the Bechdel test any time soon, its nuanced approach to fractured masculinity, absent fathers, and the profound psychological and emotional effect they can have is a refreshing counterbalance to the usual testosterone-fuelled approach of your average space flick.

The film’s slow burn approach to this certainly won’t be for everyone. Deliberate and sombre, with a monotone voice-over that calls back to Harrison Ford’s in Blade Runner in all the wrong ways, Ad Astra isn’t really the gung-ho space romp some of the trailers make it out to be. Despite a plot punctuated by action, the film should perhaps be approached with caution by those wanting something a little more outgoing.

Go with it, however, and there’s something utterly spellbinding in Ad Astra. Letting the whole film wash over you and allowing its tone, themes, and visuals coax you in will open up a new level of appreciation for what Ad Astra is offering. At times awe-inspiring and frequently mesmerising, at its best, James Gray’s film is an utterly absorbing work of art that invites you to bring your own thoughts, fears, and existential musings to the table in a way that all great science fiction should.

Epic without being overly bombastic, Gray’s directing makes the most of the film’s sheer scale while keeping the plot and action admirably intimate – the odd moon pirate chase sequence aside. Although clearly influenced by sci-fi masters like Christopher Nolan, Ridley Scott, and Kubrick, Gray’s approach is something unto itself as he builds on the style established in previous effort The Lost City of Z, while having the confidence to explore new and intriguing storytelling avenues.

Combining Hoyte van Hoytema’s breath-taking cinematography and Max Richter’s stirring, ethereal score, Gray merges sound and image to form a hypnotic and fully immersive cinema-going experience. Like Interstellar, 2001, and even Gravity before it, Ad Astra is a pure, all-encompassing theatrical show and best enjoyed on the biggest screen possible. As Roy launches from planet to planet in his intergalactic dad hunt, we pass jaw-dropping scenery that perfectly captures both the sheer beauty and unfathomable horror of deep space.

Beautifully shot with 35mm widescreen magnificence, the externals scenes will leave you in awe, while the internal ones emit a grainy, cold, industrial feel that, despite its near-future setting, has a gritty, retro vibe as if advances in technology haven’t yet stretched to NASA’s interior design department. It’s this combination of polarised visuals that leaves Ad Astra with a tone that’s both engagingly fantastical and steadfastly grounded.

With a plot that wears its Apocalypse Now influence like a badge of honour, Ad Astra certainly won’t be winning any prizes for originality, yet, what it lacks in innovation it makes up for in its laser-guided dedication to the mission at hand. Although sprawling and overtly meditative at times, there are no side missions or narrative segues from James Gray, as the plot stays focused on its goal without getting tempted into the kind of tangents that can bog down even the best thought-provoking sci-fi.

Naval-gazing though it may be, the narrative drive of Roy contacting his father out near Neptune, bolstered by a number of interesting twists and turns, propels the plot along at a decent clip, offering an effective balance of action and cinematic immersion. Unfortunately, as we enter the film’s final act however, this plot propulsion gradually begins to splutter.

The ending is Ad Astra’s only real let down as the film, for all its magnificence to that point, doesn’t quite stick its landing. Without giving anything away, as we near the film’s conclusion, the plot gradually loses all impetus, with Gray clearly struggling to work out how to bring it all to a satisfactory conclusion.

With things winding up, there’s a lingering sense of emptiness as the father-son battle comes to a head with little intrigue or innovation. Although the Apocalypse Now and Interstellar influence comes more and more to the fore the deeper we head into the film, this only works to highlight the storytelling disparity between Ad Astra and those sci-fi elites, with the film eventually running dry of ideas as it comes in to land.

While it’s certainly disappointing see the film falter at the last, it’s important to note just how successful Ad Astra is in every other department, not least with its main man. In an era when star power feels on the wane, it’s remarkable to see a film built so comprehensively around its lead, yet Ad Astra’s entire world revolves around Brad Pitt.

Not since the days of The Assassination of Jesse James has Brad Pitt been this sombre, as he takes a deep dive into the shuttered mind of Roy McBride, yet rarely has he been this good. Stemming from family tragedy, Roy’s emotional regression echoes Ryan Gosling’s magnificent performance as Neil Armstrong in First Man, as Pitt shuts himself away entirely, only coaxing himself out as the root of Roy’s emotional stunting eventually reveals itself.

Like Gosling before him, Pitt’s approach to the role is a thing of solemn beauty, feeling at odds with the more extroverted roles that have made his name. Whether he’s mellowing out as the years catch up with him or it’s a desire to push himself out of his comfort zone, who knows. What is for sure is that Pitt’s reserved approach allows for a deeper level of emotional investment in his character than at almost any other point in his career. Although brief cameos from Ruth Negga, Liv Tyler, and Tommy Lee Jones help supplement the cast, Ad Astra is a film exclusively built on the shoulders of its leading man and there are few that can carry that kind of dramatic weight better than Brad Pitt. 

At its best, sci-fi can capture the imagination without sacrificing intelligence and Ad Astra strikes that balance perfectly. Despite its sizeable budget and star branding, the film is a beautifully rendered, deeply personal portrait of absence, emotion, family, and hyper-masculinity, painted on an awe-inspiring cosmic backdrop. Bolstered by a restrained but powerful performance from Brad Pitt and underpinned by James Gray’s ambitious filmmaking eye, Ad Astra is as intimate as it is overwhelming and, despite a third act wobble and a questionable voice-over, a wonderfully affecting piece of science fiction cinema.