Art has always been interested in examining a few fundamental themes – love, death, family and the meaning of life are essentially the main ideas that have persisted for about as long as art has been produced, regardless of the medium. We can group these themes under the general category of the human condition, which is the term often used to describe any works that seeks to look at some aspect of existence, and providing conversations that are deep and filled with meaning, in the hopes of uncovering the answers to some of life’s more challenging questions. Fearless, which was adapted by Rafael Yglesias based on his novel of the same name, explores the aftermath of a major tragedy, focusing on a small group of individuals that had their lives indelibly changed as a result of a plane crash that left only a few survivors, all of which now have to live with the trauma of having experienced such a crisis, and the guilt of being the ones to survive while others had to perish, which is especially hard for some of them, as they had family that died in the crash. Yglesias worked with director Peter Weir, one of his generation’s most versatile and acclaimed auteurs, to bring this story to the screen, crafting an achingly beautiful and incredibly poetic story that both celebrates and questions the nature of life, looking beneath the surface of everyday existence and finding the beauty that can sometimes only become clear in the aftermath of an enormous catastrophe. Nuanced and gorgeously composed, Fearless is an extraordinary film, a work of magnificent scope and even greater existential complexity, and one that aims to look at life through a provocative but meaningful lens, in the hopes of finding the details that are all too often obscured from view when looking at it from only a single perspective.

There is something about the concept of trauma that cinema often struggles to portray, although not through any fault of its own. There isn’t any single way to grieve or process tragedy, so it’s unlikely that we’ll ever find a work that fully encapsulates all the range of challenges that come with the process of coming to terms with the fact that life often puts us in difficult situations, which can linger with us for eternity. Fearless is perhaps the most complex exploration of these themes, specifically because it is not intent on exploring trauma itself, but rather the circumstances that surround it. Yglesias frames the story of Max Klein through the perspective of a man struggling with his identity after a major crisis that leaves him broken, but not entirely shattered – tragedy can change someone in unexpected ways, which is the general propellant of the film as a whole, and the idea that is most frequently revisited as we venture through the world with these characters. Trauma has rarely been as beautifully investigated than here, and Weir was the perfect candidate to bring the novel to life, since his work often reflects a very keen sense of awareness of both specific individuals and the world in which they reside, which is exactly what Fearless is focusing on. His ability to evoke an atmosphere that is akin to magical realism, sharply contrasting it with some brutal depictions of both the central tragedy and its direct aftermath, leads to a film that is vivid, disquieting and absolutely stunning in both form and content, and proof that Weir is one of our great artists, someone whose vision is fluid but steadfast, able to convincingly look beyond the most simple scenarios and find the detail in every moment, regardless of how conventional they may seem as a cursory glance.

This naturally leads us into a discussion around the issue that Fearless is most invested in exploring, that of survival. The entire film is structured around looking at individuals that survive a cataclysmic event, and while they are undeniably relieved to have not died, they still carry with them a deep despair that is difficult to avoid, causing many of them to entirely change their perspective. For some, simply surviving is more than enough to see the brighter side of existence and get a new lease of life, but the main characters here know that this is much more difficult, especially since survival doesn’t solely take place when one is able to walk away from the literal crash, since they’ll always have the emotional and psychological wreckage, which is far more difficult to overcome. However, as cynical as it may sound in theory, Fearless is a film about looking at life through a more critical lens, where the negotiation between past and present leads to new insights, some of which may not be comfortable, but remain absolutely essential to finding a way forward after a tragedy. Weir’s ability to plumb the emotional depths in a way that highlights their impact but still avoiding sentimentality is absolutely incredible, and helps us view this film as far more than just a straightforward instance of using misery as a means to tell a story that evokes a reaction in the viewer. It’s an engaging, beautifully-complex human drama about survival, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, and which is investigated through a series of haunting moments that can be quite difficult to watch at first, but reveal themselves to be necessary to finding the striking complexity beneath, which is where the film really does manage to thrive and make some bold and provocative statements that a lesser film may have avoided.

Fearless is a film that orbits around its characters and their experiences (rather than the other way around, which is more common with films that base themselves around disasters or their aftermath), so it’s logical to have expected strong work in terms of the people who populate the film. Jeff Bridges is the kind of actor who does not have a definitive performance that everyone considers to be his very best, since the combination of his versatility, astonishing talents and intimidating presence have allowed him to play a range of roles, each one well-constructed when placed in his gifted hands. Fearless is one of the many that are often cited as his best, and watching the film, it’s difficult to argue with such logic – he’s absolutely incredible in the film, taking on a role that could have so easily have been dismissed as nothing more than just a starring vehicle for an actor seeking a more challenging role, but becomes a work of incredible complexity and intricately-woven detail by Bridges, an actor who commits to every role, regardless of what he is asked to do. He brings such emotional depth to every role, and Fearless is entirely dependent on his ability to keep us engaged. The film has a plethora of great actors that weave in and out of the story, but our gaze is firmly planted on Bridges, who commands the screen better than pretty much anyone who appeared in front of a camera. This kind of praise may seem hyperbolic, but it’s genuinely true, and Bridges is just astonishing here. The only other actor in Fearless that can even dare to rival him is Rosie Perez, who has a smaller but just as substantial role as the grieving mother who lost her child in the crash, and finds herself slowly being healed by this mysterious man who teaches her the merits of not feeling fear, but rather embracing the unknown. A beautiful and poignant character study, the film knows how to navigate its emotions and create individuals who seem authentic and endearing, which is very helpful in a film with such challenging subject matter, and an execution that can be polarizing if not done right.

We don’t find films like Fearless being made very often, at least not ones that are nearly as committed to the more abstract ideas embedded in its narrative as we see here. This is not a film with a very clear conclusion, and while it is a hackneyed expression, we find ourselves increasingly depending on the idea that the journey is far more important than the destination, which is part and parcel of the experience. Weir is an incredible director, and while it isn’t as revered as some of his more notable films from the era, he is still a filmmaker whose precise vision and ability to adapt his style to any kind of story has made him one of our great journeymen auteurs, someone who may not always have direct involvement in the conception of certain stories, but will consistently elevate them based on his magical touch. A daring work of genuine complexity, and a film that sets a very clear tone, which it explores in increasingly interesting ways, Fearless is a provocative exercise in psychologically-charged storytelling, carefully curated by a screenwriter with a thorough understanding of the subject matter, a director who brings his own perspective and talents to the proceedings, and a cast that inhabit these characters and make it such a poignantly human work. By the end of the film, we don’t have the answers we were expecting – there are very few discernible moments where a character has an epiphany or discovers the error of their ways. Instead, we’re given a series of moments that revolve around a tragic event, each one building on the last in what is to become a powerful, stream-of-consciousness drama that carries itself with the kind of forthright dedication that we don’t often find in films that tend to revolve around trauma, a theme that is far more difficult to commit to film than many others, but which Yglesias and Weir do without seemingly any laborious effort, opening the door for an astonishing work that may be vague at times, but uses these ambiguities to great effect in the construction of a vital, celebratory manifesto on the inevitability of tragedy, and the importance of celebrating life in all its unpredictable glory.