October 29, 1993 | In the opening moments of Fearless, a deeply affecting and profoundly unsettling new film by Peter Weir (Witness), we are plunged into the story with a disorienting image of confusion and dread.
Max Klein (Jeff Bridges), obviously in the disheveled aftermath of some terrible disaster, slowly emerges from the smoke, striding slowly but purposefully through a cornfield. He has a baby clutched in his arm and a small boy held tight by the hand. He is determined and unafraid. He appears ready to leave everything behind, to shed his skin and enter a brave new world.
Which, in a very real sense, he does.
For Max, the journey begins as soon as the pilot announces he has lost all hydraulics, and will attempt an emergency landing. As the airliner plummets to Earth, Max — a white-knuckle flyer even under the best of circumstances — realizes: “This is the moment of my death.”
And then his new life begins.
At once detached and blissful in the minutes before impact, Max calmly changes his seat, leaving his business partner behind to go comfort a frightened youngster. (It is, quite literally, a life-saving move: While Max is safely seated elsewhere, the business partner is killed in the crash.) When the plane hits the ground, Max has the presence of mind to lead other survivors through the smoke to safety. Then, after completing his self-appointed chores, he simply hails a taxi, and leaves the terrible chaos of the crash site.
In time, Max is reunited with his wife (Isabella Rossellini) and son, but they find him distant, unreachable. As well they should, since Max no longer considers himself among the living. And yet, he is not quite dead. In fact, he feels immortal, because he has cheated death, and continues to do so. While wandering through traffic or perching atop tall buildings, he faces down the terrors that hold sway only over the living.
Adapted by screenwriter Rafael Yglesias from his own novel, Fearless is a powerful and provocative movie about, among other things, the dizzying possibilities of life after a near-death experience, the shell-shocked serenity of knowing your worst fears have been realized, and the addictive rush of terror and exhilaration felt by anyone who wins while gambling for the biggest stakes of all. Most important, it also is about looking straight into the chasm separating life and death, responding to what you see there — God? Eternity? Nothingness? — and then living with an awareness that most people spend a lifetime avoiding.
For Carla (Rosie Perez), another crash survivor, the knowledge comes with a crushing sense of guilt — she’s certain that it’s her fault her infant son died when the plane hit the ground, because she couldn’t hold onto him. When all other attempts to draw Carla out of her near-catatonic despair fail, a grief counselor (John Turturro) takes a drastic step: He introduces the woman who feels unworthy of being alive to the man who no longer fears life or death. The counselor hopes Max and Carla can save themselves by pulling each other back from their respective extremes. What happens during this controlled experiment provides the narrative drive for much of Fearless.
The heart of Fearless is provided by Bridges, whose portrayal of Max is as complex and haunting as the film itself, and the cast-against-type Perez, who can break your heart even as Carla heals Max’s soul. They are perfectly matched traveling companions for a vividly rendered journey through darkness into light.
