Believing his life and work no longer have any meaning, linguistics professor Dominic Matei (Tim Roth) decides to commit suicide on Easter Sunday in 1938. Before he is able to end his life, Dominic is struck by a bolt of lightning; rather than killing him, the bolt reverses the aging process, turning back Dominic’s clock from the age of 70 to 40. This brings him to the attention of both the world’s scientific community, who want to study him, and the Nazis, who want to harness Dominic’s abilities for their war machine.

Dominic survives the ravages of war and the communist tidal wave that sweeps Europe, and nearly two decades later he meets a woman named Veronica (Alexandra Maria Lara), who bears a striking resemblance to Laura, the lost love of Dominic’s life. Veronica is also struck by a bolt of lightning, but in her case the aging process is accelerated, meaning Dominic could once again lose her.

CRITIQUE

I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Francis Ford Coppola’s decade-long sabbatical from the director’s chair did nothing to put his career back on the right path. Youth Without Youth, his first excursion behind the camera since his 1997 adaptation of John Grisham’s The Rainmaker, is the type of small, doggedly noncommercial film Coppola has been vowing (or, if you like, threatening) to make for the better part of the past twenty-five years, but it’s a misguided, ill-conceived failure, something of a One From the Heart for the new millennium.

Coppola spent the last ten years working on an unrealized sci-fi epic, using the money he won in his lawsuit against Disney to finally get out of debt, re-editing other directors’ works (he tinkered with both Supernova and The Fantasticks), and running his vineyard. Profits from the latter helped fund Youth Without Youth, and it’s a good thing Coppola has an alternate source for financing, as it’s unlikely any studio would sink its money into such a project (and if Coppola’s distribution problems are any indication, not many would even want to release it).

This film is an uneasy mixture of student film pretensions and skilled execution; the visuals are often splendid, but the plotting and dialogue aren’t as clever or erudite as we’re led to believe. The script, which Coppola adapted from a novella by Mircea Eliade, mistakes overstuffed and confusing for complex; this is meant to be the type of film that requires its audience to pay attention and then rewards them for doing so, but is actually just overwrought and off-putting.

In the end patience isn’t rewarded, and the story isn’t as challenging or cerebral as you may expect. The problem here isn’t paying attention, but the lack of any reason to pay attention. Roth’s character isn’t involving (the actor does his best with the role, although his best apparently didn’t include attempting an accent), nor is his story; this makes Coppola’s ramblings and musings that much harder to take, which makes the film as a whole that much harder to take. 

In one of the oddest collisions of storytelling tropes ever committed to film, Youth Without Youth is a mixture of metaphysical gobbledygook and genre clichés. Long sequences of people speaking about the nature of existence, man’s place in the universe, or the vagaries of time are separated by silly scenes of Nazi intrigue and melodramatic romance. Coppola is a very intelligent man, and his knowledge of cinema conventions and history is seemingly boundless, but even after forty years as a director he still struggles mightily with any material he sets his sights on, and he works largely on instinct.

Depending on the project, this can be a boon or a serious detriment. The madness in his method made a masterpiece of Apocalypse Now, but his constant indecisiveness dragged down the last Godfather picture. In Youth he injects virtually every thought he’s ever had on reincarnation, philosophy, religion, etc., and it’s overkill. I can only take so many pregnant pauses, meaningful looks, or bits of dialogue about the devolution of man, and this film is stuffed to the gills with all of this and more. I’ve never read the work on which Youth is based, but I’m almost positive that all of this works better on the page than it does in the film. Some things are better read than said (Dune, anyone?), a notion Youth reinforces at nearly every turn.

The first cut of the film Coppola and editor Walter Murch assembled reportedly ran three hours. The loss of this material shows in the final cut, which jumps about in a haphazard fashion. More than a decade flashes by in the blink of an eye, with only a montage of newspaper headlines to indicate how much time passes. This is jarring, and the sudden shifting of gears in the storytelling is equally jarring. Dominic changes, both in personality and in his pursuits, but we have no idea why.

The plot then abruptly rushes headlong into Veronica’s plight, and then barrels toward an unsatisfying conclusion. I have no desire whatsoever to see this excised material (although if history teaches us anything, it’s that Coppola is never done futzing with a film, so I imagine the longer version will eventually surface), but nevertheless I can’t help but wonder if the film would have benefitted from its inclusion.  

If it’s any consolation to anyone, rest assured that Coppola hasn’t lost his eye for composition or framing. Youth Without Youth is as much a pleasure to simply look at as it is a chore to sit through. Coppola and cinematographer Mihai Malaimare, Jr. fill the screen with striking images and amusing visual nods to past cinematic classics, and their use of color is often dazzling.

The director has also retained his knack for finding the perfect musical accompaniment. Composer Osvaldo Golijov, whose first film this is, contributes a wonderful score, one that brings to mind the classic work Nina Rota and Coppola’s father Carmine performed for the director in years past.

These aspects certainly aren’t enough to make the film worth watching (if you’re a fan of film scores, though, track this one down), but they do show that Coppola hasn’t completely gone off the deep end. Let’s hope that his other talents eventually resurface.

THE VIDEO

Youth Without Youth was shot on high-def video, and the resulting 2.35:1/1080p transfer showcases both the strengths and weaknesses of the medium. Colors are beautifully reproduced, and black levels are generally deep and strong throughout. Depth and detail are very impressive. On the downside, nighttime exteriors--as is the case with many shot-on-HD features--can be a little flat and dull.

THE AUDIO

The Dolby Digital TrueHD 5.1 track provides an aural experience that perfectly suits the film. The surrounds are employed for sustained ambient effects, a handful of discreet effects, and to help open up the score. Low end activity doesn’t push terribly deep, but it also seems perfectly fitting. Dialogue fidelity can be uneven; it generally sounds fine, but there are moments when it exhibits a disconnected, ADR-type quality.

Some of this is to be expected, as English isn’t a first language for many members of the cast (you can see several of them speaking phonetically, which would have resulted in their dialogue being rerecorded in post), but it also pops up at times when I wasn’t expecting it, such as the scene in which Matt Damon makes a cameo appearance. No other audio tracks are included; English, English SDH, and French subtitles are available.

THE EXTRAS

The commentary by Francis Ford Coppola is another of the director’s typically strong chat tracks. As usual, Coppola balances specific comments on this film with his thoughts on filmmaking as a whole. He also touches on some of the more esoteric and personal themes woven into the plot and clarifies a few of the story points that became muddled when the film’s running time was whittled down.

The Making of Youth Without Youth (9 minutes) is a bland EPK-style featurette. Most of the major players turn up in interview segments, which are intercut with behind-the-scenes footage.

The Music for Youth Without Youth (27 minutes) is an (overly) in-depth look at the work of composer Osvaldo Golijov. The entire process of scoring--from writing and recording to actually sequencing the music with the film--is covered.

Youth Without Youth: The Makeup (18 minutes) looks at the creation and application of the prosthetics used to age (or, if necessary, make younger) Roth’s character. 

The film’s end credits close out the extras. (Coppola, not a fan of lengthy or elaborate credits sequences, chose not to include them in the film proper.)

FINAL THOUGHTS

Youth Without Youth wasn’t worth the wait, proving to be a major disappointment to even an ardent Coppola fan such as myself. The best we can hope for is that Coppola stays in the game long enough to find his footing (hopefully sooner rather than later).