Lucia Bellanger’s review published on Letterboxd:
"Now we know we're all we've got."
Lately, as I've become more and more ingrained in the sphere of all things film, I've been second guessing my opinions on a lot of the things i'm seeing this year, whether they're 2019 movies or movies I'm just seeing for the first time that are "must sees" that I'm supposed to "get". As with most things, this is a delicately balanced pendulum that can swing too far one way or the other, and I often end up wondering if my initial gut reaction or opinion of a movie is "right".
I've become a firm believer in allowing room for the idea that all films are capable of moving someone in some way for any given reason, and I'm not to say who should or should not be moved by what.
I had held off writing this review for this exact reason: maybe I didn't "get" this movie all the way? Maybe I'm just an ignorant non-filmmaker falling for spectacle? Etc. But no! I'm not dammit!
I adore this movie. It quite literally took my breath away and I gasped through a lot of it. It's not your usual showy space adventure, but Brad Pitt is so genuine, so soft and understated, so introspective, and we haven't seen him in such top form in years. Every shot had intention, every line was concise, every sound, every note, had purpose. The two hours somehow flew by and I enjoyed every minute we spent with Roy McBride. I felt his fear, his anger, his despair. But eventually, the building tension and nihilism combusted and faded slowly into a sigh of relief.
I’m unsure of the future, but I’m not concerned. I will rely on those closest to me, and I will share their burdens, as they share mine. I will live and love. Submit.