Ad Astra (2019): Outer Space, Inner Self

Ad Astra is an original sci-fi title from indie filmmaker James Gray (The Lost City of Z) and one of the quietest studio films in years. In the near future, Roy McBride (Brad Pitt; The Tree of Life), a decorated astronaut, is called in for a classified mission. His father Clifford (Tommy Lee Jones; No Country for Old Men), a hero and space pioneer, was sent on a decades long mission to Neptune that went missing years ago. The government now believes that he may still be alive and that his ship may have something to do with the dangerous power surges wreaking havoc on Earth. They hope that Roy, as Clifford’s son, can contact him.

Gray’s depiction of space is merciless and worn. At this point in time, bases have been established on the moon and on Mars with even commercial travel available. These environments are nothing new and have lost their sense of wonder. They aren’t quite the grimy settings of Blade Runner, but space travel has become as mundane as an airplane trip and bases on the moon look like run down subway stations. Roy remarks that humans have created the very things they ran away from when leaving Earth. The main difference from life on Earth and life in space is the inherent danger it carries. The slightest mistake could lead to death in the harsh, unforgiving setting. The moon has unpatrolled areas, where travelers are at risk of attack, and the power surges mean spacecraft could malfunction at any time. It makes the film’s vision of the future both pragmatic and precarious.

This danger is further shown in the film’s setpieces. On Earth, on other planets, and in space, Ad Astra is not above thrilling its audience. Gray, a director not previously known for his action skills, stages each scene with intensity. Where other films like Gravity repeated similar scenarios to the point of diminishing returns, Ad Astra uses completely different perspectives for each climactic event. The action scenes feel original and perilous. Even when it’s clear something is about to go wrong, Gray does so with a completely shocking and unexpected danger that keep the sequence as fresh as it is deadly.

Pitt delivers a multilayerd, complex performance.

The majority of the film relies on Pitt’s performance and he is more than suited to the task. Pitt’s face dominates the screen and is a complex painting of emotion. He is at once calm and professional while still communicating the anxieties he hides underneath. Despite Roy’s incredible talents and feats across so many areas, he isn’t cocky. Pitt makes him a dutiful soldier, committed to his task above all else, including his own feelings. Within his always capable demeanor is sadness. There is an air of despair beneath Pitt’s performance and he tows the line between a firm external appearance and internal struggle in a way that would make Ryan Gosling jealous.

The film has a surprising amount of voiceover from Pitt that is used to contrast his inner feelings with his image. While it does provide needed insight into Roy’s state of mind, Gray is overreliant on this technique. The sheer amount of narration is intrusive and it prevents the audience from drawing their own conclusions as the narration loudly and frequently tells instead of letting the film’s visuals show Roy’s emotions.

While the title and plot may imply an outward focus, Gray’s interests are internal. On the outside, Roy is the ideal soldier. Characters comment on his unbreakable composure stating that he has never been recorded with a pulse over 80 beats per minute, even when his life was in danger. He is constantly facing psych evaluations, all of which point to a single desired ideal: cold, unfeeling stoicism. The ideal space explorer shows and feels no emotion and, on the surface, Roy meets this criteria, but he can’t reconcile these so-called virtues with his emotions. He still feels anxiety, still misses his father, still misses his wife, but is forced to compartmentalize these thoughts and numb himself to fit into the desired mold. Gray uses the film’s deliberate pace to linger on Pitt’s expressions and force the audience to evaluate them beyond his initial impression. The film becomes an exploration of how the ideal of a stalwart hero manifests in real life and the consequences and conflict it creates in those who strive for it. As Roy’s voyage continues, we see him grapple with these unattainable goals and Pitt’s inner turmoil is deeply moving, despite the overuse of voiceovers. With Ad Astra, Gray has created a thrilling, contemplative, and emotional outer space voyage to explore the inner self.

4/5 stars.

Tigers Are Not Afraid (2019): Drug War Fairy Tale

Tigers Are Not Afraid is the story of children caught in a world of violence. In an unnamed Mexican city, Estrella (Paola Lara), a young girl, returns home to find her mother missing. She lives in a area infested with drug-related crime and it’s implied that her mother was one of many abducted by gangs for human trafficking. She soon encounters a group of boys close to her age and follows them. Their leader, Shine (Juan Ramón López), has stolen a valuable item and reluctantly lets Estrella join their party as they flee a local drug lord.

Director Issa Lopez doesn’t shy away from the violence of the setting and anyone is a potential victim. The film opens with children hiding under their desks as gunfire erupts outside and it becomes clear that this is a frequent occurence. As Estrella waits at home, alone without her mom, we see her neighbors pack up and leave. The city becomes an abandoned, graffiti-ridden wasteland ruled by crime lords with little sympathy for the victims, even children. Lopez maintains the danger throughout the runtime with frequent deaths and a feeling of hopelessness. It doesn’t appear anyone has the ability, and potentially even the desire, to help the kids get to safety.

The city is a dilapidated ghost town.

The film falls into the category of magical realism. In the vein of Pan’s Labyrinth and last year’s Sicilian Ghost Story, it takes a horrific setting, cities ravaged by drug wars, and tells it from a child’s perspective. The boys, seeing the behavior of men and teenagers, try to act tough as their own gang. Shine repeats that Estrella isn’t strong enough to be with them, but it becomes immediately clear that he is only a boy with little real experience. The child’s viewpoint allows for small moments of joy in the difficult situation. Finding a soccer ball is enough cause to celebrate as the kids are able to momentarily forget about their situation. Despite their grim situation, they still have childish impulses.

Lopez uses elements of magical realism to guide the narrative and contextualize the events onscreen. Before any scene of violence, a trail of blood, moving in unnaturally perfect straight lines, enters the room. It’s a simple visual effect, but it carries a foreboding presence as it warns of what could possibly happen next. In the opening scene, Estrella is given three pieces of chalk by her teacher who tells her that each will grant her a wish. These wishes are then used as inflection points in the story. Each wish marks a major event that radically changes their journey. These wishes provide some solace to Estrella and give her young mind a way to understand the occurrences around her, but, for the audience, the wishes are moments of suspense where anything, good or bad, can happen.

Tigers Are Not Afraid becomes a visceral fairy tale. Its ending is a bit hokey, but the desperation the children feel is palpable and the way they make sense of the unjustifiable cruelty that surrounds them is authentic. Lopez shoots the horror of drug cartels through a child’s eye with a convincing vision of how young minds endure in a world without hope.

4/5 stars.

Honeyland (2019): A Tragic and Humble Life

In a rural area in North Macedonia, a woman, Hatidze, leads a simple life harvesting honey and living with her elderly mother. Her routine is disturbed when a family moves into one of the empty homes next door. Her previously quiet existence is eradicated by the many loud children and arguing mother and father. Directors Tamara Kotevska and Ljubomir Stefanov take this obscure topic and turn it into a emotional portrait of a woman’s life.

Honeyland is filmed in pure cinema verité. The camera is entirely observational, eschewing the talking heads that dominate most of modern documentary films. There are no sidebar interviews, no archival footage, and no narration to structure the film. Instead, the camera carefully watches as Hatidze’s life changes. The lack of artifice lends authenticity the film’s story. While there is a clear conflict driving the plot, it never feels contrived.

The film takes advantage of the beautiful Macedonian countryside. Hatidze lives far from any city and much of the screentime is her roaming the rocky hills as she gathers her honey. The filmmakers often shoot her in silhouette, like the lone hero of a western, as she goes on her walks. They make heavy use of the titular honey’s color palette. The color grading favors golden hues of sunlight and the glistening yellows of Hatidze’s crop.

Hatidze’s friendship with one of the boys is both sweet and sad in the truth it reveals.

Despite its limited scope, Honeyland touches on many issues. It’s unclear how the filmmakers arrived at Hatidze as subject for a documentary, but her life raises many questions. She is in her early fifties but lives only with her octogenarian mother who is mostly bedridden. There is untold history in every wrinkle in her skin and her mother’s withered hands. As she bonds with one particular neighbor boy who sees things from her perspective, he asks the unspoken question “Why do you live here?” She has no power, no running water, and little in the way of companionship outside of her mother and some pets. The answer, delivered by Hatidze and the film itself, is quietly heartbreaking. Not because of a calamitous event, but because of the banality of the sequence that led to her current life.

The film’s other theme is sustainability and capitalism. Hatidze is careful to harvest a limited quantity of honey from her hives, mitigating the damage to the colonies. She doesn’t need or want much to provide for her mom and herself, but her neighbors have a different approach. They bring in several crates to house new beehives, as opposed to Hatidze’s natural hives in rock formations, and are pressured by a local merchant to produce a large quantity, despite the potentially destructive effects to not only their bees but also to Hatidze’s. Unlike her, they have a large family and the father wants to provide for them. This too has a tragic element. It’s a microcosm of how the desires of modern life and the requirements of capitalism can favor short term gains at the expense of long term prospects.

Documentaries like this succeed or fail on their subjects and Hatidze’s story has more layers than could ever be expected. Her modest living, the impact of her new neighbors, and the filmmakers’ commitment to an unobtrusive vision make Honeyland a compelling look at a tragic and humble life.

4/5 stars.

The Peanut Butter Falcon (2019): Heartwarming Adventure

With dreams of becoming the next great professional wrestler, Zak (Zach Gottsagen), a 22-year old man with Down syndrome, escapes the retirement home he lives in to make his way to Florida and join a wrestling school. He is pursued by Eleanor (Dakota Johnson; Suspiria), his friend and caretaker from the home. Along the way he befriends Tyler (Shia LaBeouf; Transformers) who lets him tag along as he runs away from his own pursuers.

Set in the coastal areas of North Carolina, the film has some beautiful views. Directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz favor the yellow-greens of the wet setting when outdoors without postcard-style imagery. They make an effort to show how grimy life in that area can be. Most of the characters are poor, houses are broken down, and everyone seems to be dirty and sweaty. LaBeouf looks like he hasn’t showered for days and it makes the characters and setting believable.

With his straightforward delivery, Zak is an immediately likable protagonist. Zak is smart, resourceful, and determined. The subterfuge in his attempts to escape the retirement home are hilarious as he earns the help of his fellow patients though bartering pudding for a diversion. He brings honesty and innocence to the screen. He responses carry no pretense or ulterior motive and Gottsagen’s acting feels completely in the moment as Zak authentically reacts to the characters around him. His goal of reaching the wrestling camp, while ridiculous, is so earnest that it makes him and his pursuit sympathetic. Despite this being his first major role, Gottsagen is able to handle himself alongside experienced actors like Bruce Dern (Nebraska) as he deftly handles both dramatic and silly scenes.

Zak and Tyler grow into a sweet brotherly bond.

The friendship between Zak and Tyler is what drives the film. LaBeouf has a reputation both on an off camera, but his performance here contrasts nicely with Gottsagen. Tyler is trying to be a lone wolf as he flees his pursuers, but, after witnessing Zak’s sincerity, he becomes the perfect contrast. He encourages Zak and makes Zak’s goals his own. The same is true for Eleanor. She is more pragmatic as she wants to bring Zak back home to safety, but she also recognizes how much wrestling means to him and is willing to take risks just to make him happy. As cliché as it may seem, Tyler and Eleanor become Zak’s surrogate family and the care they show Zak is heartwarming without being saccharine.

The film focuses on themes of family and self-acceptance. When Zak and Tyler start their journey, Zak has negative opinions about his own abilities. He assumes he has to be the villain in wrestling because he has Down syndrome until Tyler explains otherwise. It’s nothing new for a film to promote self-acceptance, but the tangible changes to Zak’s perception of himself are enough to soften the familiarity. Showing, not telling, how even small bits of encouragement can drastically change someone’s beliefs is the film’s greatest accomplishment. Nilson and Schwartz have made a heartwarming adventure with an unlikely, but lovable hero.

4/5 stars.