Month: September 2019

Film Review: AD ASTRA (2019)

Many critics have boiled down Ad Astra, James Gray’s ambitious space opera, to the phrase “Apocalypse Now… in space!”, and while this is hard to refute, Ad Astra feels as much Gray’s commentary on the difficult no man’s land between Gen X and Gen Y and the Baby Boomer generations.

Our protagonist, Brad Pitt’s quiet and contemplative astronaut Roy McBride, could have been played by a man in his 30’s. In some ways, he was; Pitt might be in his mid-50’s but his Peter Pan looks, while not ageless, are certainly allowing Pitt to play characters who ostensibly could be younger. This feels important to Ad Astra in how deep rooted the film is in how Roy exists in the shadow of his father, Tommy Lee Jones’ absent H. Clifford McBride, a NASA legend on the lines of Neil Armstrong who vanished on the Lima Project three decades ago – an ambitious attempt to reach the edge of the solar system and contact alien intelligence. Clifford has not just been mythologised by humanity but also by Roy, who is haunted by the terrifying question of whether, having followed in his father’s career footsteps, he will end up becoming a man who Roy steadily comes to realise was not the heroic bastion of humanity’s progress everyone believes.

“I do what I do because of my Dad” Roy states as he is placed on a literal quest to find not just his father but his father’s legacy. In this, you can see the Apocalypse Now parallels, moreover you can see Gray’s admitted inspiration—Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness—in the journey Roy, much like Francis Ford Coppola’s Captain Willard, takes ‘up river’ on the search of a legend. Much like Willard, Roy externalises his thoughts via inner monologue, allowing his anxieties and concerns and existential turmoil to spill out as he travels his river, in this case the solar system. As in Apocalypse Now, or indeed Heart of Darkness, Ad Astra is less about the hardships of the difficult journey using near future spacecraft but Roy’s internal voyage of reflection, discovery and almost nihilistic destiny. Clifford becomes his darker id. Roy’s quest is one to destroy his own demon.

This is where Ad Astra crosses over from being simply a mythological quest into something else entirely. It becomes a generational battle.

Film Review: RAMBO: LAST BLOOD (2019)

Last Blood, ostensibly the final chapter of the Rambo saga, serves as a fitting portrait of America’s dark, lumbering national psyche.

In a film which starts predictable and just keeps getting more so, Last Blood gives us a growling, jaded old warrior in John Rambo. Having survived Vietnam (twice), Afghanistan and Burma’s killing fields, this veteran now fights entirely on home turf for the first time since the franchise began. Rambo ranches cattle, looks after his adopted Mexican immigrant family, and for fun appears to build an entire underground lair filled with weapons beneath his traditional American prairie homestead. This isn’t even a Rambo planning for the apocalypse. This is a Rambo living his *own* eternal apocalypse, trapped somewhere between a grizzled Rooster Cogburn and damaged Captain Willard, living only in the reveries of his tortured past and the hope of a young girl in which he sees a future. Which naturally gets snatched away, as it wouldn’t be a Rambo film if Stallone’s hero didn’t traverse a river of pain to attain some inner peace.

Last Blood, however, maybe unknowingly, doesn’t seem to know if Rambo is a hero at all anymore. As an audience we may appreciate Sly’s innate, snarling Italian-American nobility—in the same manner we consider his Austrian compatriot Arnold Schwarzenegger—but Adrian Grunberg’s film is at pains to remind us this guy isn’t Rocky Balboa. Rambo is psychologically haunted by Vietnam, even all these years later, literally replaying events from First Blood and the conflict in his mind. When Gabriela (Yvette Monreal), his naive ‘ward’, ends up the victim of lawless Mexican organised crime gangsters, Rambo unleashes one-man savagery on anyone even tangentially connected to them. He admits he just wants revenge, pure and simple. He is past healing. He will live in his anger for the rest of his days.

Rambo feels like the haunted reflection of a growling, aged, vicious and vengeful America at the end of a long road. It’s dreams and hopes are dead. Now all that’s left is monstrous.