Plot Details: This opinion reveals major details about the movie's plot.

Hollywood has been churning out disaster movies for as long as I can remember. The heyday of films like The Poseidon Adventure and Airport segued smoothly into more contemporary fare, such as Armageddon and ConAir. Always at the heart of these movies is the struggle of those involved to prevent the disaster, or escape unharmed. In 1993, director Peter Weir gave us a different kind of disaster movie. One that looked at what happened to people after they survived disaster. This movie is Fearless.

Fearless is something of a cross between a disaster movie and a fable of survival. The action is interwoven into the main story, rather than taking center stage. Fearless opens with a trickle of people fighting their way through the tall corn of a mature harvest. At the forefront is Max Klein (Jeff Bridges), who leads a small boy and clutches an infant. There are no opening credits, just this confused jumble of people making their way through a maze with fright and horror in their eyes and in their actions. Max, however, is strangely calm as he hands the boy off to the rescue team and finds the mother of the baby. As the people begin to exit the field, we understand what has happened. The plane these people were in has crashed, horribly, with many fatalities. Strewn across the ground are small personal effects, a charred corpse being covered by a fireman, sections of twisted metal. As the camera pans upward, we see the broken plane, the wailing wounded, and eventually the entirety of the crash site. This opening sequence, though mostly without dialogue, is remarkably effective in delivering its intended message. These people have been through a major disaster. Some lived, many died.

Max refuses medical help and simply leaves the scene, traveling by car. He’s numb, but becomes exhilarated as he slowly accepts that he did indeed survive. The world has thrown him its worst, and he lived. He is filled with the need to take chances, test this newfound invincibility. He eats food to which he is allergic, walks in traffic, dances on ledges. His wife, Laura (Isabella Rossellini) has no idea what to make of this new husband. She is confused by his behavior and angered by the changes she sees. Joining Max and Laura are one lawyer and one psychologist. The lawyer, a Mr. Brillstein (Tom Hulce) is there to make sure all money to be found is found. The psychologist, Dr. Bill Perlman (the inimitable John Turturro) is there as a specialist in post-traumatic stress disorder (hired by the airline). Max generally ignores both men. He is distracted and strange, even while being heralded as a hero. Eventually, Perlman talks him into meeting with a woman from the crash whose reaction could not be more different from that of our Max. Carla (Rosie Perez), who we saw hysterically screaming for the rescuers to save her baby at the scene, only to have the plane explode, has taken to her bed. She wishes only to die. Perlman hopes Max can help Carla feel less, and Carla can help Max feel more. The story plays out as these two dramatically different people come together and help each other heal. This healing comes with a heavy price for both, but without it they are surely ruined.

Fearless shows us two distinctly different variations of survivor guilt. Max, whose partner died in the crash, and who apparently helped rescue many people on that plane, feels nothing but the exhilaration of survival. He is brutally honest with everyone, never mincing words. His uncompromising calm is belied by only one thing. Whenever Max is confronted with a reality about the crash that he cannot control, he panics, and hard. His fear is palpable, but there is nowhere to go to escape. The panic is internal. His only respite is to take control, beat his fear, often by taking outlandish chances. He needs that rush of beating the fear of death that he felt on that plane to get back in control. He seems uncaring toward his family, yet remarkably sensitive to the needs of Carla. Again, he feels that here he can take control, save her, prove that he is alive.

Carla is submerged in an abyss of guilt and self-loathing over the loss of her child. The religious faith that she has relied upon her whole life is not helping. She is falling further away from the rest of her family as she holds tight to her pain, unable and unwilling to let go.

An emerging story of romance between Carla and Max is inevitable, but where it goes is not. Rather than taking the easy way out and having these people find physical comfort in each other, the film makes them go through the processing of their ordeal as compatriots. There is no real romantic tension here, a wise choice by writer Raphael Yglesias and director Weir. A sexual relationship would have made the story into just so much pablum, the characters into Hollywood stereotypes. By taking the chance of showing a genuine and caring friendship between Carla and Max, without sex, gives the relationship more depth. It’s not too often that a male and female lead in a stressful situation do not end up in bed, and it’s a refreshing change, letting the focus remain on their grief, survival and rejoining with the world. Substance over nudity, if you will.

The cinematography by Allen Daviau is one of the high points of the film. From the initial scenes of the crash, which are viscerally affecting, to the repeated focus on the faces of the leads, Daviau uses visuals to express emotion as well as action. The scenes of the actual crash, shown completely in flashback, are simply amazing. Objects flying, faces frozen in fear, fire and the wrenching of metal. All shown with an attention to detail that makes the entire scene feel almost uncomfortably real. The repeated use of close up is an interesting choice, one used by Weir in Witness as well, although I think to better affect here. Max’s liquid blue eyes, intent yet often without focus, his bemused and distant smile. Carla’s huge, wounded eyes, puffy from crying, demurring from even the smallest pleasures at first. These close in shots give us as much insight into the characters as their words, sometimes more.

Bridges is very, very good as Max. He seems to be the type of actor who always pulls his weight, turning in one solid performance after another, but without that certain quality that makes a superstar. His portrayal here has some fragmentary resemblance to his Starman. The aloof, somewhat confused, not quite connected quality of Max reminds me of that alien visitor. He makes a nice everyman, very appealing without being intimidating. You don’t doubt for a minute that this is a man who was a hero on this flight. He gives a nice amount of depth to Max and his erratic behavior that overall is very effective.

Rosie Perez is also solid, if not quite as good as Bridges. That insistent accent is distracting at points, but not terribly so. Her grief is palpable, even though it has a feeling of perpetual near hysteria that seems a bit too Hollywood. John Turturro is typically quirky as the psychologist, but doesn’t let this consume the character. It is his job to narrate Max, in a way, explaining his behavior. Without him, the film would have been confusing, and Max very difficult to fathom. His presence, though sporadic, carries with it important storytelling elements. Tom Hulce provides some comic relief as the gleeful attorney who knows he shouldn’t revel in the pain of others, but as it promises to be so lucrative, simply can’t help himself. A far cry from Amadeus, but a good performance. And look for a very young Benicio Del Toro as Carla’s husband.

The single jangling discordant note in this film is the character of Laura, both as written and as portrayed. Laura is angry that Max is not following her perceived notion of how one should deal with crisis. She emphasizes to him over and over that he is hurting their son, yet she drives him away with her persistent demands that he conform to her expectations. Given the character that is Max, his wife has every right to be confused and scared, but Laura just seems jealous and selfish. Adding to the problems with the character is the absolutely horrid acting of Isabella Rossellini. Her delivery is wooden, and stilted. Her accent, which should be lovely, is simply annoying. She gives her character no warmth, no feeling, making it impossible to like this woman. This is too bad, because every time she shows up on screen, the flow and tone of the movie are disrupted.

The only other quibble I have with Fearless is that the screenplay gives in to an ending unworthy of the story. Not a bad ending, not at all, just a bit too pat. The film as a whole is somewhat emotionally manipulative, but not really in a bad way. You know your strings are being pulled, but don’t really mind, because for the most part the film doesn’t cheat you. The emotions are well played and the situations interesting and engaging. Weir and Yglesias, with special credit going to cinematographer Daviau, have created quite a powerful movie in Fearless. It’s a tear jerker to a certain degree, but one that delivers a solid story, stunning and effective visuals, and mostly very good performances. A definite recommendation, even with the poor performance by Rossellini. That the film succeeds despite her is further testament to the fine story and the performances of other actors.


Recommended: Yes

Viewing Format: DVD