Ad Astra poignantly portrays sadness, confirming the idea that no one can hear you cry in space. For several years now, dramas set against the backdrop of space’s vast dangers have been my preferred entertainment. I regularly indulge in them, almost as a ritual, deliberately setting aside other diversions to savor the experience of space travel. Each year, films like 'Arrival', 'Blade Runner 2049', 'First Man', 'Interstellar' and my all-time favorite film 'Gravity' have earned scores ranging from exceptional to flawless. While Ad Astra leans more toward the former descriptor, it remains undeniably one of the best films released this year due to Gray’s continued ability to make character studies so compelling. The story follows an astronaut who journeys across our Solar System in search of his missing father after learning he might still be alive, while also investigating a mysterious power surge threatening humanity. Right away, I need to address the misleading marketing campaign. This isn't a science-fiction blockbuster; there’s very little "action." If you’re expecting something like 'Star Wars' or 'Avatar', you should simply stay home and watch films that are pure escapism, such as 'Angel Has Fallen'. Instead, Ad Astra is a James Gray production—a carefully constructed character study using melancholy to explore an existential crisis. The film’s premise offers numerous metaphorical images that delve into humanity’s purpose in the universe. Planets of incredible beauty displaying every color imaginable, yet lacking any emotional connection. The vast emptiness of space serves as a mirror reflecting on our existence as insignificant particles of stardust. Hostility extends throughout the galaxy, exaggerating our own self-destructive tendencies as a species. There's an obsession with venturing out, leaving behind love, hate, and grief, only to embrace nothingness. Gray’s space opera is a sorrowful story centered on the pressures faced by a son attempting to emulate his highly regarded father—a source of inspiration for many. This creates a palpable tension that permeates the film with despair and anguish. Pitt delivers a consistently nuanced performance, portraying stoic mannerisms that allow McBride to feel these emotions. Even minor moments where he breaks character, like slamming a wall in frustration, reveal a raw humanity. Gray builds the plot around McBride’s journey. Scenes such as the lunar pirate raid, the mayday rescue, and the crew brawl, while incorporating conventional elements into a contemporary drama, represent McBride's emotional state—fear, anger, and desperation respectively. These are gestures that speak to human resilience. The supporting cast, including Jones, Sutherland, and Negga, provides stability for McBride, acting as stepping stones on his path to finding his father, almost as if guided by fate. I found the narration, which alternates between internal thoughts and exposition, to be overused and basic; Hoytema’s cinematography could have conveyed these ideas through its stunning visuals. And "beautiful" simply doesn't do it justice. From the very first shot—an iridescent image—Hoytema takes control, using colors and shadows to create a representation of life itself, what it means to see. The blue of Neptune, the red of Mars—clashing tones that mirror McBride’s emotions. Accompanied by Richter's stirring score and production design reminiscent of '2001', Ad Astra is technically a masterful work of art. Gray’s conclusion felt somewhat underwhelming to me, with its hurried return home diminishing the carefully cultivated sorrow. The ending I would have preferred would be one that no one wanted (but that’s life, I suppose). Despite these minor criticisms, my opinion could change after another viewing. James Gray is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors; he understands character and acknowledges humanity's obsessions, transforming the challenges of life into expressive individuals. Ad Astra’s deliberate and contemplative pacing, which may deter some viewers, ensures that loss and grief are captured regardless of location—whether at home or in deep space—they never disappear.

Source on TMDB