In his first film for ten years, Francis Ford Coppola returns to directing with a beautiful and mystic story featuring Tim Roth and Alexandra Maria Lara. While this will disappoint those looking for the next Godfather or Apocalypse Now, this project is a “metaphysical romance” exploring the themes of time, consciousness, and “the transcendental love of a man for a woman.”

Based on the work of pre-eminent religious and philosophical scholar Mircea Eliade, Youth Without Youth tells the story of Dominic Matei (Roth), an aged professor who, unable to finish his life’s work, and full of regret over the lost love of his youth, decides to commit suicide. However, when he is struck by lightening, he regresses to his youth, simultaneously gaining miraculous mental powers. Set in Romania, World War II, Dominic is forced to flee the country under pursuit of Nazi scientists. When he meets Veronica, the reincarnation of his youthful love, he is forced to choose between the path of reason or emotion.

Roth and Lara give sensitive performances, adding fluidity and integrity to what would have dissipated in the hands of lesser actors. Describing his character as “a very complicated and rather beautiful man,” Roth commented that he was initially reluctant to take on the part of such a “timid and gentle” protagonist. Roth has managed to depart from the villains of his past, giving the part a delicate fragility and culture. Lara convincingly portrays a girl lost in the river of time, and her ability to speak in tongues demands applause in its own right.

Exploring the fundamental polarities of life: love/war, science/emotion, the film journeys to India, Switzerland, Russia, and Romania, encompassing what Coppola hopes to be an epic vision of Eastern and Western cultures. Burrowing deep, he attempts to ask the eternal question, “Like Faust: how do we define eternal life? For me it is through the ability to fall in love again, and always with the same woman, which already forms part of you.”

Reflecting the influences of its original text, the film is structured by intricate symbols reflecting the central themes of reincarnation and the breakdown of strict chronology. “I wanted to create a film which, like a book, could be watched many times,” Coppola commented, likening the film to a “fable in the manner of [Argentine author] Borges.” The Nazi swastika is transformed back to its Hindu origins as the characters travel to India, while the Babel of antique languages becomes a symbol of the evolution of consciousness. As Editor Walter Murch commented, echoing Borges himself, “Action itself is its own symbol… [but] thought must find an external form of representation.”

While it may not have the same appeal as many of his other more famous works, Coppola has once again pushed the boundaries. As director, producer, and financier, he was free to work in whatever manner he wished, reviving the artistic directions he could not follow in his youth. “I feel like an 18 year-old, at least in the way in which I think and dream,” he commented in an earlier interview. In that respect, Youth Without Youth can be seen as a return to Coppola's own youthful impulses, tempered now by the wisdom of age. It will be interesting to see how this film weathers the years.