A brave feature for a Hollywood studio to take on, this atypical avant-garde film attempts to deal with the existentialist philosophy surrounding life and death, after our protagonist, a San Francisco architect, experiences a near-death event. The epiphany and adrenaline rush that Max Klein (Jeff Bridges) undergoes in his brush with death radically alters his personality and behaviour. When the hydraulics fail on the plane on which he is aboard, setting it plunging towards the ground, amongst the panic and screaming of his fellow passengers Max has the revelation: 'This is it. This is the moment of your death. I'm not afraid. I have no fear'. The accompanying 'buzz' that his seeming invincibility produces has such an impact upon him that after surviving the crash, he proceeds to risk his life in search of an equivalent level of euphoria in cheating death. Thus, he confronts his own life-threatening allergy to strawberries, blithely walks across lanes of oncoming traffic, and in one riveting scene, stands perilously on the ledge of a skyscraper in the buffeting wind.
In addition, he is increasingly drawn to those who have shared this life-changing experience, and steadily becomes more distant from his wife and child. Bridges delivers a laconic and effortless performance, at first glance, more worthy of an Oscar nomination than his earlier less convincing incarnation of Carpenter's 'Starman'. Yet, his performance suffers from the fact that his character's smugness and introspective self-absorption are ultimately unappealing. Just as this protagonist has a growing sense of detachment from those around him, so can we the audience become more alienated from his narcissistic and zen-like attitude.
Having just launched their own production company at Warner Bros, in the spring of 1991 producers Mark Rosenberg and Paula Weinstein received an adapted screenplay from a soon-to-be published novel by Rafael Yglesias. Impressed they contacted acclaimed director Peter Weir. After a twelve-month career hiatus, Weir was actively seeking a 'broken script', a raw script as yet not worked upon by Hollywood. Drawn to the themes covered in this bold and original screenplay, Weir flew to New York to meet its author. Yglesias, whose own fear of flying led to his avidly watching any programmes on air disasters, had been heavily influenced by accounts of the crash-landing of United Airlines Flight 232 which made headlines in July 1989. Engine failure at 37,000 feet left passengers having to endure 44 minutes of descent bracing themselves for impact with the ground. Video of the emergency crash-landing at Sioux City airport with the loss of 112 lives.
As preparation for bringing such weighty and profound content to the 'big screen', director Peter Weir interviewed survivors from this crash. Consequently, Weir decided to change the nature of the film's most moving and frightening scene of Max's dream-like return to the doomed aircraft cabin at the conclusion of the movie, by dropping all exterior shots, and purely concentrating on the passengers' viewpoint, thereby heightening its intensity for the film's audience. In addition, as preparation for that six-minute opening cornfield sequence, not only did they have a field of corn specifically planted before being bulldozed over to recreate the crash site, but a total of ten days was needed to fashion the crash site, including spilling 600 suitcases of clothes, costing around $2million overall. So realistic was it that pilots of other planes flying overhead reported what they thought was a real crash.
The skills of Weir, who himself considers this feature his greatest work, are evident from the majesty of the opening scene in which Bridge emerges from a hazy, smoky cornfield holding what the audience believe to be his baby in his arms and his little boy by the hand, before the shot pans out to reveal the wreckage and carnage of a terrible air-crash. Probably the inspiration for JJ Abrams' opening of 'Lost'. Weir undoubtedly also greatly benefitted from working alongside cinematographer, Allen Daviau, frequent collaborator in Speilberg's early successes.
One cannot imagine Mel Gibson, first offered the role which he rejected as he was about to make his directorial debut, being as convincing as Bridges. Yet, the latter's efforts are further undermined by having to deliver lines of new-age psycho-babble from the screenplay by Rafael Yglesias which grate and deflect from the profound issues under analysis. As such, Max offers empty pieces of advice such as 'If life and death make no sense, there's no reason to do anything', or 'People say they want to know the truth, but what they really want to know is that they already know the truth'. Max similarly admonishes his gaming aficionado son: 'When you die, you don't get another life.' Worst of all, Max heartlessly lets it be known to those traumatised by their loss that for him he believes the tragedy was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and in acquiring his complete certitude he has lost all means of empathy and is at one step removed from humanity. Another uncomfortable aspect to this flawed character is the Jesus-like symbolism which surrounds him such as where his injury from the crash mirrors that of the Saviour on the Cross.
By contrast, Rosie Perez provides a performance worthy of earning her an Academy Award statuette, and one which should have garnered her more future Hollywood opportunities than has been the case. Her portrayal of a mother wracked by palpable grief and guilt for not having done more to save her baby is simply heart-rending. How can one forget the slow-motion scene in which she desperately attempts to breathe in the scent of another's new-born for that which she herself has lost. The relationship which builds between her and Max is the centrepiece if the movie, and one with its own spiritual connotations. She regards Max as a sort of personal Angel and in one brilliant scene breaks down as she confesses her sin of having lied and not having the courage to admit that in her eyes she killed her infant by letting go. As for Max, in the best scene of the movie he desperately attempts to help her deal with her loss, and sense of guilt at her own survival, by driving a car headlong into a brick wall, whilst she in vain attempts to clutch onto a toolbox. As we the audience watch it smash through the windscreen, it reveals the inescapable human tragedy which has befallen her. How wise the decision to have U2's 'Where the Streets Have No Name' play out this scene, adding even greater pathos.
As for the supporting cast, John Turturro is excellent as the concerned psychiatrist appointed by the airline as counsellor to the survivors of the crash, and Tom Hulce contributes well as the unconscionable lawyer motivated by maximising the damages paid by the airline, best summed up by his observation to Max over the latter's business partner who died in the crash: 'Did you see him die?..That could be worth extra money.' Despite her efforts, Isabel Rossellini has the thankless task of trying to make her vacuous character Laura appear worth living for.
Nevertheless, in spite of obvious flaws, Weir has provided one of the most touching pieces of cinematic history which should endure as testament to his art. This is down to the aforementioned opening sequence, the car crash sequence, and the finale with his treatment of the closing crash scene playing out to Gorecki's Third Symphony, while Bridges' character becomes human again and almost succumbs to his allergy to strawberries. As his wife desperately tries to resuscitate him, Max within his replay of the crash is drawn towards a spectral light, thereby replicating the famous painting of Hieronymus Bosch, 'The Ascent into the Empyrion', until he turns away and decides to come gasping back into his almost lifeless body.
In addition, he is increasingly drawn to those who have shared this life-changing experience, and steadily becomes more distant from his wife and child. Bridges delivers a laconic and effortless performance, at first glance, more worthy of an Oscar nomination than his earlier less convincing incarnation of Carpenter's 'Starman'. Yet, his performance suffers from the fact that his character's smugness and introspective self-absorption are ultimately unappealing. Just as this protagonist has a growing sense of detachment from those around him, so can we the audience become more alienated from his narcissistic and zen-like attitude.
Having just launched their own production company at Warner Bros, in the spring of 1991 producers Mark Rosenberg and Paula Weinstein received an adapted screenplay from a soon-to-be published novel by Rafael Yglesias. Impressed they contacted acclaimed director Peter Weir. After a twelve-month career hiatus, Weir was actively seeking a 'broken script', a raw script as yet not worked upon by Hollywood. Drawn to the themes covered in this bold and original screenplay, Weir flew to New York to meet its author. Yglesias, whose own fear of flying led to his avidly watching any programmes on air disasters, had been heavily influenced by accounts of the crash-landing of United Airlines Flight 232 which made headlines in July 1989. Engine failure at 37,000 feet left passengers having to endure 44 minutes of descent bracing themselves for impact with the ground. Video of the emergency crash-landing at Sioux City airport with the loss of 112 lives.
As preparation for bringing such weighty and profound content to the 'big screen', director Peter Weir interviewed survivors from this crash. Consequently, Weir decided to change the nature of the film's most moving and frightening scene of Max's dream-like return to the doomed aircraft cabin at the conclusion of the movie, by dropping all exterior shots, and purely concentrating on the passengers' viewpoint, thereby heightening its intensity for the film's audience. In addition, as preparation for that six-minute opening cornfield sequence, not only did they have a field of corn specifically planted before being bulldozed over to recreate the crash site, but a total of ten days was needed to fashion the crash site, including spilling 600 suitcases of clothes, costing around $2million overall. So realistic was it that pilots of other planes flying overhead reported what they thought was a real crash.
The skills of Weir, who himself considers this feature his greatest work, are evident from the majesty of the opening scene in which Bridge emerges from a hazy, smoky cornfield holding what the audience believe to be his baby in his arms and his little boy by the hand, before the shot pans out to reveal the wreckage and carnage of a terrible air-crash. Probably the inspiration for JJ Abrams' opening of 'Lost'. Weir undoubtedly also greatly benefitted from working alongside cinematographer, Allen Daviau, frequent collaborator in Speilberg's early successes.
One cannot imagine Mel Gibson, first offered the role which he rejected as he was about to make his directorial debut, being as convincing as Bridges. Yet, the latter's efforts are further undermined by having to deliver lines of new-age psycho-babble from the screenplay by Rafael Yglesias which grate and deflect from the profound issues under analysis. As such, Max offers empty pieces of advice such as 'If life and death make no sense, there's no reason to do anything', or 'People say they want to know the truth, but what they really want to know is that they already know the truth'. Max similarly admonishes his gaming aficionado son: 'When you die, you don't get another life.' Worst of all, Max heartlessly lets it be known to those traumatised by their loss that for him he believes the tragedy was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and in acquiring his complete certitude he has lost all means of empathy and is at one step removed from humanity. Another uncomfortable aspect to this flawed character is the Jesus-like symbolism which surrounds him such as where his injury from the crash mirrors that of the Saviour on the Cross.
By contrast, Rosie Perez provides a performance worthy of earning her an Academy Award statuette, and one which should have garnered her more future Hollywood opportunities than has been the case. Her portrayal of a mother wracked by palpable grief and guilt for not having done more to save her baby is simply heart-rending. How can one forget the slow-motion scene in which she desperately attempts to breathe in the scent of another's new-born for that which she herself has lost. The relationship which builds between her and Max is the centrepiece if the movie, and one with its own spiritual connotations. She regards Max as a sort of personal Angel and in one brilliant scene breaks down as she confesses her sin of having lied and not having the courage to admit that in her eyes she killed her infant by letting go. As for Max, in the best scene of the movie he desperately attempts to help her deal with her loss, and sense of guilt at her own survival, by driving a car headlong into a brick wall, whilst she in vain attempts to clutch onto a toolbox. As we the audience watch it smash through the windscreen, it reveals the inescapable human tragedy which has befallen her. How wise the decision to have U2's 'Where the Streets Have No Name' play out this scene, adding even greater pathos.
As for the supporting cast, John Turturro is excellent as the concerned psychiatrist appointed by the airline as counsellor to the survivors of the crash, and Tom Hulce contributes well as the unconscionable lawyer motivated by maximising the damages paid by the airline, best summed up by his observation to Max over the latter's business partner who died in the crash: 'Did you see him die?..That could be worth extra money.' Despite her efforts, Isabel Rossellini has the thankless task of trying to make her vacuous character Laura appear worth living for.
Nevertheless, in spite of obvious flaws, Weir has provided one of the most touching pieces of cinematic history which should endure as testament to his art. This is down to the aforementioned opening sequence, the car crash sequence, and the finale with his treatment of the closing crash scene playing out to Gorecki's Third Symphony, while Bridges' character becomes human again and almost succumbs to his allergy to strawberries. As his wife desperately tries to resuscitate him, Max within his replay of the crash is drawn towards a spectral light, thereby replicating the famous painting of Hieronymus Bosch, 'The Ascent into the Empyrion', until he turns away and decides to come gasping back into his almost lifeless body.