Sin miedo a la vida

Films like this, where the main character survives a plane crash, reveal more of how unprepared a hunter gatherer mind is to the trauma of the modern world, let alone after a traumatic event. When the fight or flight mechanism is unable to function, when there's nowhere to run and nothing can be done, the stress and anguish experienced must be one of the most painful emotions a human mind can experience. We also get another perspective, perhaps one more recognisable, through the helplessness of losing a loved one, a young child, in the same tragedy, completely unprepared and instant.

Yet we continue to push, push, push, backing ourselves into metaphorical corners with no means to escape or defend ourselves. This is deep introspective film making, as relevant as ever, with great performances from some truly great actors.

The inability to `reconnect' in the wake of a significant emotional event, especially one involving a close encounter with death, is examined by director Peter Weir, in `Fearless,' a gripping drama starring Jeff Bridges as a man emotionally adrift after walking away from an accident (a plane crash) that by all rights should have killed him, but inexplicably did not. And Weir goes on to take what is essentially a character study one step further, beyond the inevitable `why me?' that one who survives such an unimaginable episode in their life must necessarily make, to probe the psyche of the survivor and attempt to sort out the ensuing catch-22 of the mind, wherein the incident has manifested a schizophrenic sense of guilt/euphoria born of fate's decree that he, among those now dead, should live. It's a lot to assimilate; a taxing physical and psychological challenge necessitating an expanded utilization of the human capacity, and the subsequent negotiation of the attendant recast attitude and aptitude. All of which Weir succinctly captures through keen observation and his own intuitive grasp of the human condition.

As the film opens, we see Max Klein (Bridges) making his way through a cornfield just outside of Bakersfield, California; he's carrying a baby in his arms and has a young boy by the hand, leading him determinedly through the haze of smoke from the crash. There are others following Max, as well. And even before they emerge from the field, coming upon the crash site where rescue workers are already furiously attempting to sort it all out, there is a detachment about Max that is readily discernible. He surveys the situation calmly, as if seeing it all through the eyes of someone else, as if he were outside of himself, observing rather than experiencing. Then after locating the baby's mother, he simply walks away from it all, never looking back.

Two days later the F.B.I. finds him in a local motel. They put him together with a representative from the airline, who offers him a train ticket back home to San Francisco. But Max wants to fly home, which astounds the rep. `But your wife,' she says, `Told us that you didn't like to fly, even before the--' `The crash?' he replies. Then with assurance he tells her, `I want to fly home on your airline. But I have a request; I want to go first class.' And we know now, without question, that Max is not the same man that he was before the crash.

In his previous films, such as `Picnic At Hanging Rock' (1975), `Witness' (1985) and `The Mosquito Coast' (1986), Weir established himself as a director who knows human nature and is adept at exploring the emotional depths of his characters, in stories dealing with ordinary people thrust into extraordinary situations. As he does with this film, Weir sets a deliberate pace and allows that extra moment that means so much to the development of the characters. It's a subtle approach that adds depth and resonance to his films, and allows his audience to experience, rather than just watch, the drama as it unfolds. And he understands (as few directors do-- especially Americans ) the impact that `silence' can have, as in the scenes here shortly after Max leaves the crash sight. First, Weir shows us a solemn Max, driving alone through the desert at high speed, gradually awakening to the joys of living, to that `feeling' of being alive, as he sticks his head out of the widow and lets the wind hit him in the face, slapping him with the reality that he is, indeed, alive. But then we see Max parked by the side of the road, sitting on the ground, pensively staring out at the vast expanse of desert and at the low, blue mountains in the distance. The absolute silence Weir effects allows us to share Max's thoughts at that moment, to get inside his head as he picks up a bit of dirt and examines it closely, then as he looks up again at the nothingness/everything that surrounds him. As Max reflects, we reflect with him; and in that precise moment, that necessary connection between Max and the audience is firmly established. It's a quiet, and brilliant, piece of filmmaking.

Through many years and many movies, Jeff Bridges has demonstrated time and again his consummate ability as an actor who can `touch' his audience, and he continues to evolve with every new film. Max is perhaps his most challenging role ever, as it requires a vast emotional range to make this character convincing and bring him to life believably. And Bridges succeeds magnificently, and on a number of levels, with an inspiring, Oscar worthy performance. The finesse with which he conveys his moods and emotions is extraordinary; he enables you to `feel' his displacement, share his compassion, sense his empathy and know his anger. Quite simply, Bridges makes Max Klein a character you are not going to forget.

As Laura Klein, Isabella Rossellini gives a remarkable performance, as well, as the wife given the gift of her husband's life, only to have to suffer his state of `limbo,' as she desperately attempts to penetrate the defense mechanisms that have given him a renewed appreciation for the touch, taste and beauty of life, all of which she is unable to share because his experience has taken him to a place she cannot possibly go. Her portrayal is astute, convincing and some of the best work she has ever done.

Also turning in a strong performance, for which she deservedly was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, is Rosie Perez, as Carla, a fellow crash survivor with whom Max forms an especially strong and significant bond.

Written for the screen by Rafael Yglesias (adapted from his own novel), beautifully filmed by Allen Davian, and with a haunting score by Maurice Jarre that so sensitively enhances the drama in an understated way, `Fearless' is an example of filmmaking at it's best.

I got to tell you. This is the kind of movie that will make you cry for like two hours. It was a film that dealt with people who lost their loved ones and how they cope with the loss. I was blown away from Jeff Bridges's performance. He could have downright earned a Oscar nomination. I thought all of the stars in this film was great. I thought that this was Peter Weir's best film since Witness. When i normally sees movies that are tearjerkers, I normally don't cry. But, after I saw this film, I was in buckets of tears. The direction was great, the acting was superb. I think it's true what they say about films. When it comes to writing a film, it's very easy to make people cry but it's heard to make people laugh. Out of that subject, it was a powerful film and I highly recommend it.

10 out of 10.

Other reviews I have read here do a great job of summarizing the plot and key elements of this film. I just want to reiterate, first, how incredible the cast is. Working in a plot that demands attention to and awareness of subtleties, *every* actor, on down to the smallest part, puts forth flawless performances, and are directed brilliantly. If I was John Turturro, I'd have calmed it down a little, but if he did that, he wouldn't be John Turturro. :)

Isabella Rossellini is given the strongest role of her career (I mean, in *Blue Velvet*, she was scorching and daring, but she was played as a bit of an archetype and dream figure, and not as a woman struggling through a life crisis in quite so identifiable a way). Rather than fall prey to playing her role as an insensitive wife who doesn't understand the extraordinary passage her husband is undergoing, she is given the chance to really be a hero in her own right. She could *never* understand--but she tries to--and gives extraordinary credibility in a role of struggling to give what she can as Jeff Bridges' Max Klein hurtles himself into his obsessive self-made universe from his ordeal and survival. When it's clear she can no longer do that, she becomes a noble warrior to fight for her own sanity and that of her son. The procession of her character is flawless and every moment feels right.

The interplay between Rossellini and Rosie Perez is played out with unexpected honesty, restraint and brilliance. Perez' Carla has her own parallel situation, with a husband who completely can't understand why she won't exploit the situation for all she can get in court (a great early small performance from Benecio Del Torro). He is, like Rossellini, troubled by the bizarre and nonobvious intimacy that has developed between his wife and Jeff Bridges, two people whose lives might never have ordinarily crossed. Perez is, as has been mentioned elsewhere here, devastating. Her grief over the loss of her son is sustained and utterly utterly credible.

This brings us to Jeff Bridges. Man, oh man, this is his career masterpiece performance--arguably the greatest leading acting role of the 1990's. He *gets* what writer Rafael Yglesias and Peter Weir are narrowly aiming for here, and it's something no other movie has approached that I've seen. It is--the instantaneous and seemingly lifelong bond that develops between those who have been through a life-changing crisis, and how that can completely absorb them to the exclusion of *everything* else in their lives. What sounds like a subtle point here is **nailed** by Yglesias and Weir, and I can't imagine another actor who could have gotten what that feels like. I know from personal experience--mine was nothing like a plane crash--but the phenomenon that this movie ventures to explore that I just described, which may seem like mostly bizarre behavior shifts in Bridges' character to those who haven't experienced what I'm talking about--is in fact as real as love, fear, or passion itself. What Bridges realizes in putting together Max Klein is that he's *utterly* lucid--he feels as though he sees things as clearly as he ever has in his life and *never* wants to let that clarity go to revert to a more "rational" way to confront the trauma he has gone through.

Others have mentioned the "why didn't this get bigger press" issue. The studio was quite nervous that this was an art house movie and didn't promote it as heavily as they might have. It actually did quite well at the box office initially and early advocacy for Bridges and Weir to get Oscars were definitely out in the review stream, but this had the misfortune of being released *just* before a little movie called *Schindler's List*, which summarily grabbed the cinematic spotlight and completely eclipsed everything else at the Oscars.

Director Peter Weir himself considers this his greatest work and was greatly stung by what he considered the slight it was given by Hollywood and the public. In many ways it has shaped a cynicism towards Hollywood he has had ever since, and it would be five years before he'd find it in himself to direct another film.

None of us can view a movie objectively apart from the sum of who we are. Having a classical music background, I am always keyed into a film's use of music. Fearless reminds me that the combination of music and film is an art form which has been sadly neglected in modern culture and trashed by MTV. This movie is high art. The final sequence is emotionally and spiritually a transcending experience, illustrating the bittersweet reality of human existence. An experience not available through words, music, or images on their own. I cried like a baby. Movies tend to be built upon a setup and a payoff. Tension and release are the common currency for most art. I have never seen a better cinematic payoff than the one Fearless provides. And that's because the setup is flawless. There is endless brilliance here in the telling of the story. Don't miss the use of light. Light flashing across Max's face when death is at the door; in the plane and the car scene with Carla.(If possible, Fearless might have been even more effective in black and white.) The subtle transition to slow motion during the scene with Carla and the baby at the mall. Jeff Bridges is irresistible in this performance. His character has been translated out of the realm of corporeal perspective.(As demonstrated through his allergy to strawberries.) When he walks through the plane and assures the passengers that everything will be fine, I believed him. His appearance is almost a religious experience. But his serenity cannot last. He must be reborn into the frailties of human existence or he will be estranged from the world. And that is the payoff. The glorious payoff in which death in an airplane crash becomes a poetic vision of the human experience. We live, we die, but we imbue the universe with a greater purpose even if there is no god to acknowledge it. I hope history will judge this movie to be a classic, unappreciated in it's time. This is Peter Weir's masterpiece. It's hard for me to believe that he could follow this effort with the extremely banal and uninspiring "Truman Show" But I suppose even Mozart had off days.