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Ad Astra

I caught this oddity in Taipei at the Q-Square cinema near the Taipei Main Station. And the queue was actually a square, 25 minute waiting block. Just made it into the screening on time. Seeing a film in Taiwan was pretty similar to other countries, the main difference being the steep, stadium-style seating. And there were pricks with their phones on, just like any other place. Fucking philistines.

So, onto Ad Astra. This is one of those big(ish) budget 'indy' films so admired and supported by Brad Pitt and his production company, Plan B. Pitt stars in this one and James Gray directs, with Hoyte Van Hoytema as DP - and supremely well-shot it is. There are lots of things to enter in the positive side of the ledger.....and almost as many in the negative side. One of the highlights is the already mentioned cinematography. Vast space vistas juxtaposed with claustrophobic interior shots and weirdly tinted off-world living areas give Ad Astra a fairly unique look and feel. There are some discrete sequences that are worth admission - the moon chase and a Trek-ish mayday call are standouts. The performances are roundly solid, Pitt even reins in his excessive tendencies here. Tommy Lee Jones is quietly menacing, Donald Sutherland is just great to see any time and Ruth Negga adds some much needed female input.

But the main theme is where Ad Astra drifts for me. The pacing could be tighter too, but that's a minor issue. The through line of the film involves Pitt's ability to deal with his father's absence. Jones abandoned Pitt and his (non-existent) mother to go into space 30 years before and now it seems there's a chance that he may be alive after all. Jones, having gone all Space Kurtz, may also be responsible for cataclysmic anti-matter occurrences (that was as hard to write as it probably is to read). Now, Daddy issues are not uncommon in film and they can be done well. I'd say this attempt sits just above the watermark. I appreciate Pitt's emotional wranglings and his efforts to not emulate his father's personality and behaviour and there's an pivotal scene where Jones opens a box of bitter truth all over Pitt's space suit. My mini-gripe would be the meandering it takes to get to this point. Pitt must give vocal records for psychiatric evaluations and, though slightly reminiscent of Gosling in Blade Runner 2049, these scenes waft and repeat and float like Terrence Malick has infected a Star Trek film with his piss and wind.

Financially speaking, it hasn't washed its face yet and may not become profitable. I do appreciate Plan B, though, and Pitt's attempts to deviate from the mainstream ever so slightly. Hope he eventually bankrolls a winner.

See also:

This film's jungle forebear, Apocalypse Now (1979) by Francis Ford Coppola and, for a film with a similar mission, Danny Boyle's Sunshine (2007).

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