By David Server

The science fiction genre has almost limitless potential. By literally removing the boundaries of reality, sci-fi has access to some of storytelling's most compelling and effective techniques. It can provide cautionary tales by exaggerating truth, or it can thrill and excite by embracing escapism and imagination. It can challenge us, teach us, and exhilarate us all at once, using the fantastic to draw us in and deliver its message. But despite science fiction's rise to prominence in our current age of special effects filmmaking, its full real potential is often overlooked. Some truly great films, and even more very entertaining ones, have come out of the science fiction genre in the past few decades. But all too often, the real power of the genre is passed over, and the percentage of sci-fi films that are bold and challenging is disappointingly small. Director Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain is not an easy film. It is not straightforward, instantly understandable, or at times even 100% comprehendible. It is, however, one of the best films of the year, and an emotionally innovative and groundbreaking work of science fiction that serves as a great reminder of the genre's potential.

The plot is complex and pieces its various fragments together like a puzzle during the course of the film, but essentially it revolves around three very distinct, parallel storylines. Tommy Creo (Hugh Jackman) is an obsessive and driven scientist on the verge of an incredible breakthrough. His research hovers just on the brink of being able to cure brain tumors, yet the final solution seems to lie just beyond his reach. His relentless efforts are driven by the fact that his wife Izzy (Rachel Weisz) is rapidly dying of such a tumor, and while Tommy gets increasingly lost in his work, Izzy gets closer and closer to accepting her fate. Meanwhile, we also follow the quest of a 16th century conquistador named Tomas (Jackman). He is given a mission from Queen Isabel (Weisz) to find the fabled Mayan Tree of Life, which is said to bestow immortality, in the hopes of saving the Queen from the Church which has condemned her to death. And finally, we witness the lone space travel of Tom Creo (Jackman) in the 26th century, hurtling through space towards an unknown destination in a transparent spherical spaceship containing only himself and a withered and ancient tree.

If the above plot summary seems complicated, it's because it is. The first 20 minutes of the film are somewhat jarring and confusing, if only because it takes a while before you can sort out the significance of the three stories in relation to each other. But as parallels emerge, both thematically and visually, a picture begins to form and the intricate structure of the storyline as a whole starts to fall into place. It's difficult to talk too much about the specifics for fear of giving anything away, but it should be said that the elegant construction of the film is impressive and original. The movie alternates between intimate, two person dramatic exchanges, and beautiful sprawling vistas, making it feel like the fusion of a stage play and a painting. Jackman and Weisz play the protagonists of all three plots, so most of the film is spent in emotionally charged scenes shared between them. But between these sequences is some truly beautiful, breathtaking imagery, spanning from the lush, green Mayan forests of the past to the hauntingly eerie golden starscapes of the 26th century. Whether it's the compelling and often heartwrenching drama or the hypnotically entrancing visuals, the film keeps you riveted at every turn.

The performances from both Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz are among the best, if not the best, of their careers. Jackman is given three similar but distinct characters to play, turning in layered and complex performances for every one of them. Whether it's Tomas the conquistador's brutal and savage determination, Tommy's obsessive and self destructive emotional breakdown, or Tom's zen-like focus and drive, each character feeds off the others, and strongly shows Jackman's range of abilities in full form, both physical and psychological. His work shows an honesty and brutality that we've never seen from him before, and it's yet another significant turning point in his still-evolving filmography. The majority of Wiesz' performance is spent as Izzy, Tommy's vivacious but melancholy wife, slowly finding her own way to come to terms with a fate she has no choice but to accept. Weisz plays the role with dignity and energy, finding the perfect balance of effervescent life and hope in the face of death.

In addition to the strengths of the cast and the visuals, the entire film is wrapped in a hauntingly delicate score by composer Clint Mansell. The light piano and strings wonderfully encapsulate the longing and sorrow felt by Jackman in his struggles, and speaks perfectly to the film's overall tone of wistful elegance. Additionally, character motifs exist for all the variations of Jackman's roles. As the film progresses and you start to understand their connection, you begin to hear portions of the themes bleeding into one another, until they have all combined into one flowing melody that exemplifies Tommy's journey. It's not just a memorable and beautiful score, but an intelligent one, and it adds the perfect emotional touches to the already visceral proceedings.

The Fountain deals with important issues in creative and fresh ways. What is the meaning of life? Or more importantly, what is the meaning of death? The film is smart enough to know that the answers are not simple ones, nor should they be, and consequentially the answers the film does provide are more esoteric than definitive. But beyond all that, the film is a science fiction fairy tale, and even if its specific answers are complex, its message is bold and simple. The Fountain uses sci-fi as a key to unlocking the themes of life and love, and in the process creates one of the most artistic, romantic, and profoundly compelling films of 2006. It's a film that can and will stay with you for a long time, and it is not to be missed by fans of science fiction, romance, or art.