The late Mircea Eliade, a professor of religion and philosophy at the University of Chicago wrote the novella Youth Without Youth in 1976.  The story concerns Dominic Matei (Tim Roth), an elderly Romanian academic who despairs that he may never complete his life’s work -- documenting the origin of language.  Added to that professional regret is the fact that he long ago traded the love of the beautiful Veronica (Alexandra Maria Lara) for his devotion to linguistics.  Struck by a bolt of lightning, Dominic gets a second chance at both pursuits as he’s rejuvenated to middle age and gifted with extraordinary powers.  After eluding the Nazis who seek to discover the secrets of his restoration, Dominic continues his linguistic research and eventually discovers an almost impossible boon in the form of Laura (Lara), a woman who channels ancient tongues from before the written word.

Eliade’s novel is dense with intellectual and philosophical notions, so Coppola’s consequent screenplay is similarly rich in information and ideas.  The story is almost episodic with Dominic’s recovery, the intrigues of World War II, and his romance with Laura each occupying a distinct portion of the movie’s 125-minute running time.  Each defers to the trappings of the cinematic genre from which it hails: medical, espionage, and romance, yet the whole film has a sense of wonder that pervades the disparate acts.  Dominic’s pursuit, and the supernatural means by which he undertakes it, lends a sense of horror and fantasy to the genre mélange that makes the overall film quite difficult to categorize.

Roth gives a subtle, but brilliant performance with a profound sense of loss slowly superseded by his regenerated passion after his new lease on life is bestowed.  Bruno Ganz conveys the utmost sensitivity as Dominic’s doctor in the opening act while Lara is positively hypnotic and utterly horrifying in the role of Laura.  The sense of the physical and emotional toll that channeling the past has for her is probably the screenplay’s most demanding element, but Lara effortlessly gets it across along with her dedication to Dominic as she sacrifices herself to his goal.  Coppola’s directing, is as ever in top form and his decision to shoot dream sequences upside down – though disorienting for the first few occurrences – defines subconscious scenes from the subjective reality with no lack of certainty.  Mihai Malaimare Jr.’s digital photography is beautiful to behold and it’s refreshing to see that Coppola has not lost the technological edge he was riding when he cut Bram Stoker’s Dracula on an early Avid.  Walter Murch, cinema’s poet-editor, is in top form and his collaboration with sound designer Pete Horner is beautiful to witness.

The DVD’s clarity betrays the movie’s digital origins and a trio of featurettes explore the film’s making, the creation of Osvaldo Golijov’s magical score, and the make-up that makes Roth’s transformation possible.  Coppola grapples with the complexities of the story as well as personal moments from the shoot in one of his always engaging commentaries.

If Youth Without Youth has a weakness, it’s that the film strives for so much that it never quite hits its mark.  Despite the beauty of the sound and picture, the elegance of the narrative, and the charm of the characters, there’s an elusive je ne sais quoi that seems to be missing.  Perhaps the evolution of Dominic into a superman makes it hard for the viewer to connect with him.  Indeed, it is often the case that superhuman intelligence on this scale is reserved for villains in fiction.  Superman may be invincible and able to fly, but he thinks like you and I.  Dominic falls into an intellectual category beyond Batman or Sherlock Holmes, an intelligence and understanding so profound that we’re almost certain the pursuit of knowledge will lead him to sacrifice Laura’s life for his work.  It’s not the kind of movie Hollywood prepares you for, and that can be either be to Coppola’s credit or detriment.