By the time Max Klein (Bridges) has grabbed Carla (Perez) for a quick liberating fandango in downtown Oakland, Weir's ambitious movie has already hit the skids. Having survived a terrible air crash, Max goes AWOL before returning to his devoted wife (Rossellini) and their son - reborn, as it were, afraid of nothing. Is he in shock, or has his near-death experience given him special insight, power even, as Max feels? After an intriguing, laconic first half hour, the film sinks into portentous solemnity. One problem is that Weir and writer Rafael Yglesias can't make up their minds about Max's status and state of mind; moreover, the director's much-advertised 'mysticism' often results in spasms of incoherence, not to mention tedium. As often with Weir, there's considerably less here than meets the eye.