Sci-fi movies often come in two distinct modes. We either see space travel that resembles what we have today, featuring scientific or technical missions with limited crew and high risk, or fantastical depictions of a civilized universe, complete with vast cityscapes and advanced spacecraft. Rarely do we see a glimpse of outer space somewhere between the two, with humanity having established only a few footholds in the solar system but with much of it remaining dark and unknowable.

It’s this “transitional” type of sci-fi that Ad Astra ascribes to. In James Gray’s new film, we have a major base on the Moon, a smaller one on Mars, and a remote outpost in the sapphire glow of Neptune. Characters speak offhandedly about “flying commercial” to the Moon, and the main character is charged $125 for a blanket and pillow.

The Moon base itself looks like most airports, albeit with more corporate-branded kiosks and less 60s-chic décor than the one in 2001: A Space Odyssey. We’ve even managed to move our wars up there: parts of the natural satellite are the territory of pirates who roll about in rovers, looking to kidnap people or steal their transports.

All of this is mostly just set dressing for the main story in the film, but I was struck by how it provides the ideal stage for its drama to play out. The details are rich but unobtrusive – they don’t steal the focus from the characters. The world of Ad Astra feels like something we could achieve – give us fifty years maybe – and so the main plot of the movie feels that much more plausible.

In a context where space travel is this much more attainable, the story of a hero astronaut pursuing his father, a rogue scientist, to the edge of human experience is entirely logical. As some of the dangers and technological hurdles inherent in space travel are removed, it opens the door to a deeply affecting narrative that weighs the commitment to a mission against the responsibilities to a family. It may well be one of my favourite movies of the year.

Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is one of the United States Space Command’s most trusted astronauts. In an early scene, he’s lauded by his superiors for his ability to keep his heart rate below 80 beats per minute, even in catastrophic situations. So naturally he’s the guy to call on when a mysterious and devastating event called the Surge hits Earth and cripples technology worldwide.

Space Command believes that Roy’s father Clifford (Tommy Lee Jones) is responsible. Clifford disappeared 16 years previously, when a science vessel looking for extraterrestrial life near Neptune lost communication with Earth. Roy must travel secretly to Mars, to a facility undamaged by the Surge, so he can try to communicate with his father and determine the truth. Of course, Roy soon finds there’s a lot more going on than he was led to believe, and his reunion with his absent father looms in the distance like an undiscovered planet.

As Roy, Pitt is at his most restrained and contemplative. His character files regular psychological evaluations with Space Command to prove his mission fitness, giving us a window into Roy’s struggles with his task and his upbringing. Unlike another astronaut movie releasing this week, Roy may be obsessively focused on his job, but we still learn about his interior life, and come to sympathize with him. In one of his voiceovers, Roy acknowledges that his isolationist approach to his work has destroyed his personal relationships, much in the way his father did. But by self-identifying this behaviour, Roy is taking the steps necessary to grow and change, even if it’s something as simple as being present with his partner, Eve (Liv Tyler). Emotional breakthroughs are possible, though for some it takes a journey of billions of kilometres.

When I wasn’t absorbing the texture of the movie’s world – all the tidbits we get about the filmmakers’ vision of the future – I was watching how carefully Pitt lets miniscule emotions work across his face. It’s a skill that the best screen actors need to master, and even if Pitt doesn’t get Oscar consideration for Ad Astra, his work in the film is a should be studied by all aspiring actors.

You may not be familiar with James Gray’s prior work – his films like Two Lovers, The Immigrant, or The Lost City of Z have yet to find a lot of mainstream recognition. With Ad Astra, Gray proves that he can work in any genre. He grasps how traumas and obsessions pass down through generations, on a personal and on an institutional level. He distinguishes how progress can look impressive on the outside but rot from the inside. But he doesn’t strip away the genre thrills of the movie at hand: look no further than the moon rover chase in this film.

More than most movies this year, I want to live inside this film’s world. I want to experience this level of human achievement, even if some of the cynicism and corporate decay comes with it. I may not be able to do what Roy or Clifford McBride do, but I’m happy to have them cut a new path, so we can learn from their mistakes and aim ever higher.

Ad Astra gets four stars out of four.

Stray thoughts

• I really want to know how exactly Space Command handled Roy at the end of the story, though I’m also happy not knowing.

• Give me a whole streaming TV show set on the Moon base, you cowards!

• Hoyte van Hoytema’s cinematography also knocked my socks off, especially the stuff in the Martian outpost.