There comes a moment when every viewer looks at a film by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, and finds themselves somewhat at a loss for words. The duo, affectionately known collectively as The Archers when working together, produced work of such an immensely high calibre, it seems almost inexplicable that someone can consider them to solely be the embodiment of style over substance, a common criticism for filmmakers that seemingly prioritize the visual landscape over narrative. While some of these critiques are partially relevant when looking at films like The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus, it is still awfully reductive, and doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the absolutely stunning work done by these filmmakers, whose command of their medium is truly astonishing. The moment I realized they were not only fantastic filmmakers, but amongst the greatest to ever work in the medium, was during the first few moments of A Matter of Life and Death. A film that elicits such a strong reaction, it’s difficult to even write about it without feeling those pangs of simultaneous warmth and melancholy. Like any great artist, Powell and Pressburger have been subjected to a considerable amount of debate around what specifically constitutes their greatest work, and while an argument can be made for nearly any of their films, this one remains undefeated from my personal viewpoint – a daring film that combines so many genres, each one contributing to the general experience of decoding this film and discovering all the secrets that lurk just beneath. Powell and Pressburger truly made an absolute masterpiece here – and yet, it seems so difficult to fully explain all the components that make it so wonderful. Like any of their work, it’s best to enter into A Matter of Life and Death with a level of objectivity (since we’re going to be asked to suspend our disbelief), but retain the level of childlike curiosity on which this entire film is constructed – and once we enter into the film with this mindset, we’re swept away on an unforgettable journey.

Classifying A Matter of Life and Death based on genreis a challenge, but it is one that every viewer gladly takes on without any hesitation, since it is part of the experience of voyaging through the world created by the directors. Powell and Pressburger primarily work in the realm of fantasy, which they interweave with beautiful romance, a touch of social realist drama (since it was made in the aftermath of the Second World War), and a slight amount of charming comedy, which all work together to form a film that is composed of multiple layers. As one of the most unintentionally uncategorizable films ever made, A Matter of Life and Death wears its ambiguities with pride – it understands that there is value in not giving the audience all the answers, especially when it is dealing with themes as immense as life and death – few films have been labelled as appropriately in terms of the subject matter being covered than this one. We’re pushed into this world, and asked to simply go along with the process, with the promise being that everything will gradually make sense while all the plot fragments, which are intentionally scattered at the start, being to come together to form something of value. Tonally, the film knows how to hold our attention – for a film that begins with the protagonist leaping from a burning plane without a parachute, tumbling to what he believes will be a certain demise, A Matter of Life and Death is remarkably optimistic, and it keeps a very delightful tone – this doesn’t mean that it is avoiding having any of the more serious discussions, but rather that it approaches the subject matter with the understanding that any story needs to balance both joy and sadness, or else it is very unlikely to register with the viewer, who will often feel like they are being misled. We always feel as if we are in good hands when journeying through A Matter of Life and Death, which is precisely why the film is so astonishing.

An element of Powell and Pressburger’s work that often gets neglected when we consider how ambitious their productions tend to be are the fact that these films are superbly well-acted. Beneath the often magnificent spectacle are ensembles that are filled to the brim with exceptional performances, and A Matter of Life and Death is not any different. The legendary David Niven leads the film, and the directors could not have found a more suitable leading man – genial, charming and debonair in the way the character needed to be, but also vulnerable enough for the audience to be invested in his journey. Considering how much of the film orbits around his efforts to defend his right to stay alive and continue to pursue life on earth, the character required a very sincere pathos, and Niven frequently, and seemingly without any hesitation, provide it in an abundance, with this being amongst his great work (if not the very best performance he ever gave, something I think many of us will be happy to debate). Supporting him are a truly fantastic ensemble – Roger Livesy, a regular collaborator of the directors, is the embodiment of sincerity and candour as the soft-hearted doctor who takes a special interest in the case of this young man who is supposed to be dead, but has quite literally fallen through the bureaucratic cracks. Livesy, who is as charming as one can possibly be, is the heart of the film – sincere and endearing, he grounds the film and makes it very special, almost to the point where it becomes a two-hander, especially when Niven momentarily leaves the screen for longer stretches of time. Kim Hunter is wonderful as the love interest who becomes the protagonist’s primary reason to advocate for his right to live, with Raymond Massey steals every scene he is in as the closest this film comes to having an antagonist. A Matter of Life and Death is very much built around its characters, and the spirited performances given by the cast make the film such an incredible and undeniably humane experience.

Considering the subject matter, it is absolutely incredible that A Matter of Life and Death has managed to register as widely as it has. While it would be reductive to compare it to the wealth of faith-based films (since, despite heavily featuring a plot that takes place in the afterlife, it is remarkably secular), the film is very much intent on conveying a deeper message around the idea of life after death, one that isn’t necessarily defined by one’s faith, especially since it makes it a point to show that this afterlife is welcome to absolutely everyone, regardless of background, but rather by the quality of the person they were while they were alive. The film opens the door for a considerable amount of debate – the humour at the heart of the film exists to supplement the slightly more downbeat aspects of the story, which exist to provoke a lot of thought, and for a film produced in 1946, it is remarkably progressive. While most filmmakers were reflecting on the recent war by making films that simmer with anger and despair, Powell and Pressburger choose a more simple approach, one that is far more optimistic and caring, rather than leaning into the cynicism that would be more common with such a story. Had the film lacked this optimism, it is very unlikely that it would have been able to register quite as strongly as it did, which is yet another reason behind the incredible achievement that is this film, which feels more fully formed than more gritty tales. However, without the harrowing social realist films that occurred concurrently, and their more bleak worldview, a film like A Matter of Life and Death would simply not exist, since it is a story that functions best when it is in communion with all other works that tackle the nature of war – and while defining it as a war film seems slightly presumptive (since it is really only marginal that the protagonist dies in battle), it does lead to a considerable amount of conversation that feels much more impactful when all its different elements are considered in tandem.

The imagery that we see throughout A Matter of Life and Death is absolutely spellbinding, and it’s likely the element that will linger with viewers the most. Powell and Pressburger, who were as interested in playfully subverting narrative structure as they were the visual landscape, make use of both colour photography and black-and-white, although in a way we’d not expect. Life on earth is shot in absolutely stunning Technicolor, while the sequences set in the otherworld are monochromatic – and while it isn’t the only film to experiment with such a format, it is one that feels like it is doing much more with the method than others. Each scene of this film feels essential, almost as if the directors were careful in selecting the moments that would make it onto the screen. It’s a film that feels curated, to the point where absolutely every moment feels like it is contributing to a broader conversation, and it exists at the perfect intersection between style and substance, whereby the experimental way of telling this story is contrasted with the often daring narrative structure. A great fantasy film is not one that needs to spend too much time world-building or constructing entirely new scenarios distant from anything we have encountered before – all it needs to do is ensure that we feel the awe and wonder of seeing our world represented in a very different way. To put into words the exact elements that make A Matter of Life and Death so special on a visual level is very difficult, but it certainly is one of the few examples of a film taking an idea that would otherwise be seen as a gimmick, and turning it into something extraordinarily special, to the point where our gaze is so frequently redirected to the grandiose splendour of the film, we don’t even notice the small details that are pivotal to making this film such an extraordinarily poignant piece of storytelling.

A Matter of Life and Death is one of the greatest films ever made. It may be hyperbolic, but sometimes there are a few instances where such statements are appropriate. Whatever criteria one uses to establish what fits this descriptor varies between individuals, but on a personal level, the combination of beautiful imagery, stunning performances and a strong story are a good starting point for a discussion on why this film is an unequivocal masterpiece. However, this is only the foundation of the elements that make this film so brilliant – the pure, unhinged romanticism that persists throughout the film is so powerful, and the intricate, well-constructed blend of genres allows us to easily be immersed in this world. In no uncertain terms, A Matter of Life and Death is a film that flourishes from pure passion. The directors, who rarely made films in which they were not fully invested, put in a laborious amount of effort to make a film that is quite unlike anything we are likely to see, on both a visual and narrative level. The fact that this was made over three-quarters of a century ago, but yet remains so resonant and timeless, is just further proof that what they did was extremely special. Not too many films leave me at a loss for words – most of the time, even the most complex and nuanced films tend to inspire enough passion to conduct an in-depth discussion. Yet, A Matter of Life and Death is something else entirely, which is primarily a result of it being a film of contradictions – it is heavenly but secular, an intimate character study that takes the form of a sprawling existential epic. Not too many films can peddle such ideas and remain so authentic, and yet we have one of the most potent examples here. Beautiful and well-crafted, and meaningful to the point of being perhaps the closest a film has ever achieved to pure perfection. If there was ever a need to provide a work that encapsulates the entirety of the human condition, A Matter of Life and Death would be a worthy candidate, and one that I think any of us would be proud to see represent our collective existence.