Major Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is an astronaut working for the US Space Force (now a public institution known as SpaceCom, which has commercialized space travel). His entire life has been spent living in the shadow of his father (Tommy Lee Jones), a world-renowned space explorer who went missing nearly two decades before, after embarking on a dangerous mission to find intelligent life in the far corners of the universe. Enigmatic surges have resulted in many deaths on Earth, and Roy is enlisted to help the government solve the mystery of what is causing this strange galactic behaviour. By their estimation, it is very likely that McBride’s father is not actually dead, as was previously assumed, but living near Neptune, continuing his research which is resulting in these surges that threaten life on Earth. McBride is sent across the galaxy to try and communicate with his father, who has now seemingly transitioned from a noble hero into a maniacal, violent man looking to wreak havoc on the universe he previously set out to explore. McBride knows better than to believe everything and is determined to find out the truth, whatever it may turn out to be.

Ad Astra is a strange case of a film. By all accounts, this should be another fantastic addition to the increasingly prominent sub-genre of intelligent science fiction, which tends to find the perfect balance between adventure and philosophy in how it explores the seemingly boundless limits of the human mind and our relationship with technology and the world around it. It also comes from the mind of James Gray, a filmmaker who has an almost perfect track record when it comes to his previous films, all of which were excellent in their own way. Everything about this film pointed towards it being a masterpiece, and it unfortunately falls just short of achieving it. This is not the fault of Gray himself – he made yet another terrific film and one that very effectively says everything it wants to say. Rather, the reason behind this film missing out on being a truly astounding piece of science fiction lies in something more unfortunate, and much more avoidable: studio tampering, which is very evident in the final product.

Famously, Ad Astra has been in production for quite a while and was recently retooled after Disney purchased the studio behind this film. Naturally, this meant that it would be subjected to some executive changes in order to make it more commercial, and while it didn’t detract from the fact that Ad Astra is a genuinely great film, the tampering did prevent it from becoming the definitive science fiction masterpiece of the past few years, because absolutely everything else about this film, beneath the very clear changes that were made in the editing room, suggests that this is an exceptional film that, had it followed Gray’s original vision, could’ve been a towering success. However, we shouldn’t read too much into this – none of us is privy to the reality behind the making of this film, and all we can judge on is the final product, which really is good enough for us to not hammer on too long about the notable deficiencies that appear from time to time in the film. However, if there was ever a film that would benefit from a director’s cut some time down the line, it certainly is this one, and perhaps in a few years we’ll be able to see exactly what Gray intended this film to be, because I have no doubt with the right structuring, this could come to be seen as one of the great films of the genre.

Ad Astra is a great film, and a lot of that is due to Brad Pitt. Unquestionably one of the greatest stars of his generation, it only makes sense that this film would make great use of him, and unlike some of his contemporaries, Pitt has never avoided interesting work, even during the peak of his stardom. Ad Astra is some of his most fascinating work in a while, and along with his extraordinary work in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, Pitt is proving to be navigating his third renaissance, now finding himself occupying more mature, but no less effective roles that make great use of both his immense talents and remarkable charm that have been his most useful resources. The only difference is now Pitt’s status as an industry veteran, someone who has been around for a while and seen multiple generations of filmmakers come and go, stand behind his performance in this film, which is very clear here. This is a role that clearly was tailor-made for Pitt, and in the hands of any other actor, its doubtful this film would’ve worked nearly as well. It is mostly focused entirely on him (there are some memorable performances in the periphery, such as the bewitching Ruth Negga, and Donald Sutherland at his most empathetic), and relies very much on his understated performance that remains subtle without being indistinct, which is not an easy feat. Pitt is really terrific in Ad Astra, and if anything, it reminds us of the effortless star quality he possesses, and how he brings a certain rugged elegance to all of his roles, which is utilized tremendously well here.

Another very promising signal that Ad Astra is something special comes in the way it is often compared to other towering works of fiction, both from the filmmakers behind it who were inspired by a variety of notable sources and from audiences who have found correlations between this film and previous work by distinguished artists. Two pieces that come up quite regularly (and for good reason) in terms of this film are Joseph Conrad’s groundbreaking novella Heart of Darkness and Andrei Tarkovsky’s science fiction masterpiece, Solaris. The key behind this comparisons is far deeper than just being direct influences, but rather in how Gray, whether intentionally or not, uses their themes in a way that bolsters the message he is trying to convey with this film. In terms of the former, Gray’s influences with Heart of Darkness (a book that has not been a stranger to film in any way, especially through Francis Ford Coppola’s masterful adaption, crafting it into the iconic Apocalypse Now) are clear but only in terms of the theme of self-realization on a quest to rescue someone who has been corrupted by some force, whether internal or external. Here, the Kurtz takes the form of Clifford McBride, played with a mix of empathetic resignation and sinister misanthropy by Tommy Lee Jones, who sits in isolation on the far side of the galaxy, content to live out his days far from civilization, his actions indirectly causing the slow and troubling elimination of the world he so gladly retreated from.

Yet, this may be the final destination of the story, but it is the journey there that means the most. Much like Marlowe, Roy McBride struggles to understand the world around him – he isn’t against humanity, and he is often quite intense in his compassion, to the point where he is unable to make the difficult decisions. This is why Ad Astra is so compelling – it isn’t only about an astronaut venturing into deep space to rescue someone – its a quiet and intimate film that may appear to be a broad, grandiose science fiction adventure, but is actually far more of a subdued psychological drama, a thriller set in space, where the enemy isn’t from another planet, or even from another country, but the people we thought we could trust the most, and sometimes even ourselves. McBride, like his father, has had a lot of time to think and ruminate over the details of his life and the concept of existence as a whole – but unlike his father, he hasn’t gone grown disillusioned with the idea that life is not worth living, and that we should be in search of something a lot deeper. By the end of Ad Astra, where McBride finally returns to Earth after an undisclosed amount of time, it is almost a cathartic experience, because while he ventured off into space to aid the government in their efforts to explore distant galaxies and distant worlds, he realized there is still so much to learn about our own.

There’s something about this film that makes it very different from others in the genre. It is most definitely a science fiction film that places emphasis on the more philosophical side of space exploration, which is where the Solaris comparisons come in (there are some moments, such as those set in the desolate bureaucracy of the Mars base, that feel like direct allusions to Tarkovsky’s work), but even then, it is far more subtle than most science fiction films, which is why it is so jarring to see it try to derive every bit of excitement from a premise that is thrilling, but not in the broad manner most space films tend to be – this is not a film intended to be exhilarating or to incite rushes of adrenaline. It is a meditative film about one man going on a perilous journey and finding himself undergoing some form of psychological travail as well, questioning his own existence and mortality while on a mission to save the world. This is precisely why Ad Astra is a really good film, because even if there was a concerted effort to extract a blockbuster from a film that is the antithesis of the studio tentpole film some expected it to be, the cerebral underpinnings overwhelm everything else, and the often extremely moving storyline, which questions a lot more than other major science fiction films, only aids in giving it emotional gravitas to go along with the fascinating storyline.

At the very least, its likely that everyone will agree that the film is fully impressive on the technical level – Gray proves himself to be a director who actually can utilize a big budget, and just like his previous film (the criminally undervalued The Lost City of Z) was a great throwback to the adventure films of prior decades, this film feels like a very effective piece of speculative fiction made during the New Hollywood era, where storyline took preference over the revolutionary effects. This film has the visuals to go along with the themes, and while certainly very impressive and beautiful to look at, it is never distracting, and it doesn’t feel the need to hide behind the technical prowess, as there is more than enough going on throughout this film for it to stand on its own. While the film is often very intimate and confined to some smaller spaces, there are several scenes that portray the enormity of space, which Gray and cinematography Hoyte van Hoytema manage to show through staggeringly gorgeous imagery. Ad Astra isn’t dependent on the visuals to carry the film, with the effects being pivotal but not the centrepiece. This is a daring approach, and one that clearly comes from a director trying to reach a new plateau of science fiction filmmaking, one where there is a certain symbiosis between story and style, where both have equal substance and work together to create a thoroughly compelling experience.

Ultimately, Ad Astra is a difficult film to describe, mainly because it is not quite like other films in its genre, even if it does remain well within the confines of what is expected from these kinds of stories. At the very least, it is an excellent film, a captivating science fiction film that tells a story that is actually worth telling, a rare occurrence in a cinematic landscape with a preoccupation on visual effects, which often take precedence over other essential elements. Above that, it is a very intelligent piece of speculative fiction, and it uses its concept very well – it may be inspired by the outline set by other work, but it never relies on anything other than its premise that may not be entirely revolutionary, but still manages to find an uncommon sense of profundity through its meaningful approach to a familiar set of conventions. The film comes together beautifully at the end, and while it may not always be quite as cohesive as it could’ve been, it’s still an exceptionally well-made film that definitely finds the right balance between brains and brawn, flourishing into a pensive film that demonstrates that sometimes one needs to venture to other worlds to realize the value of our own.