When filmmaker Tarsem first began production on his 2006 movie The Fall, it must have seemed like a mammoth task. Made over the course of four years and filmed in 24 different countries, The Fall was the director’s most ambitious project and quite literally a labor of love (he admitted that it took him 17 years to scout locations, during which time he only accepted advertising work in countries he was interested in using for the film). In areas ranging from the Chand Baori in Rajasthan to the Colosseum in Rome, Tarsem found the settings for his sweeping tale of swashbuckling bandits and heroic little girls, but struggled to find an audience. Now, after a 4K restoration that somehow makes these settings look even more vibrant than the original and includes the reintegration of some previously deleted scenes, The Fall is finally being redistributed in the hopes of finding its second wind.
The Fall follows stuntman Roy Walker (Lee Pace), who lies in a rehabilitation facility after a failed stunt left him paralyzed from the waist down. Bedridden from his injury and heartbroken over his girlfriend leaving him for the leading man of the movie he’s working on, Roy feels as though he has nothing to live for. But when he meets Alexandria (Catinca Untaru), a precocious little girl with a broken arm, he enchants her with fictional stories of heroes and villains, unknowingly forging a bond that will change the trajectory of his life.
At the heart of The Fall is an admiration for youthful imagination and the power of cinema as a means of building connections. When Alexandria asks Roy to tell her a story, he regales her with an epic tale of a masked bandit and his team of outcasts who have all sworn revenge on an evil governor. Alexandria admits that she has never seen a film before, but as she closes her eyes to picture the story, the scene transforms into a fantastical film of her making. The world of Alexandria’s imagination is all bright colors and bold characters, the images vivid in a way that only a child’s mind could conceive. Each character is played by a familiar face—the Black Bandit (our central hero) is played by Roy, his team of rogues played by the various workers and orderlies that Alexandria encounters at the hospital, and Alexandria herself even makes an appearance later on in the story. The dazzling blue of the sky contrasts with an orange desert or a red cape, shining as though painted by the little girl herself. These colors are made even more arresting with this new restoration, which removes that dusty layer of fuzz that was present on previous versions of the film.
When appreciating Colin Watkinson’s breathtaking cinematography of The Fall, it feels almost unbelievable that very few visual effects were used in the film. In interviews from the time, Tarsem stated that CGI was only used for minor details—the removal of a telephone pole here, the erasure of a stray member of the public in wide shots there—but the film was otherwise left untouched. In avoiding the use of unnecessary CGI in post-production, and in his determination to shoot on-location for the majority of the film, Tarsem’s goal was to create a film that would stand the test of time. He succeeded.
Almost 20 years after its original release, The Fall still feels as innovative as it did on its debut, if not more so compared to the endlessly dull franchise films that dominate theaters today. The action sequences in The Fall don’t feel dated by the technology of the past, the sets all feel tactile and real (because they are), and the story itself still feels original. It’s something that could only be achieved by someone who was dedicated to making a visual masterpiece, regardless of how difficult or time-consuming that might have been. In a cinematic landscape replete with soulless blockbusters produced with the sole intention of turning a profit, it’s a relief to return to a production where craft was very clearly prioritized over the bottom line.
While much has been said about the so-called self-indulgence of Tarsem’s aesthetic—the New York Times called the film a “lackluster spectacle”—each new setpiece propels the story forward, and his love for the art of storytelling is undeniable. Tarsem is not interested in shelling a product or infantilizing his audience; instead, his film confronts mortality and champions the idea of love prevailing over all, regardless of how sentimental that may be. He asks his audience to be as invested as he is in the love shared between his unlikely pair, and it’s a request that is impossible to resist. Soaked in the fabric of The Fall is a genuine admiration for the redemptive power of storytelling, of weaving a tale so elaborate one can’t help but get lost in it. Tarsem intertwines Roy and Alexandria’s reality with the fictional world they’re creating until the two are practically inseparable. Often framed within the confines of Roy’s curtained-off hospital bed, the bond between these two characters is treated as something pure and sacred. This bond becomes Roy’s lifeline, and it only arises as a result of the two building a world that is so captivating that Alexandria genuinely believes in the power of her love to save him.
The Fall presents itself as a fairy tale, opening with a title card that reads “Los Angeles, once upon a time…” before offering all the familiar elements of a classic fairy tale to its audience: a team of swashbuckling bandits, mystical beings, a damsel in distress. But the focus on mortality is what sets this film apart from the kiddie stories. For all its whimsy, melancholy runs through the film.
The Fall is a story of a man struggling to find connection masquerading as a children’s fairy tale. That the protagonist would eventually be so desperate to end his life that he would trick a child into stealing the pills he needs to kill himself is, of course, distressing. So too is the way that Roy tarnishes the act of storytelling by using it to manipulate Alexandria, teasing her with cliffhangers when she doesn’t comply and killing off all his characters in a fit of despair. Roy’s tale only changes course when Alexandria takes over the narrative. She introduces herself within the tale as the Black Bandit’s daughter, who asserts that the bandit—now clearly a stand-in for Roy—cannot die because she loves him. In many ways, The Fall can be seen as a version of The Princess Bride for those who have ever contemplated suicide. The two both include a story of a handsome rogue saving a princess as told to a child, but in The Fall, this story is grounded by the reality of the storyteller’s declining will to live. In Alexandria, Roy finds an unlikely savior.
The Fall captures the beauty of storytelling with dazzling cinematography and fantastical setpieces that are made even more remarkable in this restoration. Compared to the superhero schlock of today, The Fall remains exceptional for the strength of its imagination and the director’s dedication to visual spectacle. For the better part of two decades, The Fall was considered lost to time; between a largely negative critical reception upon its debut at the Toronto Film Festival and a subsequent lack of interest from distributors, the film struggled to find its audience and eventually became infamous for its lack of accessibility. With this new restoration, and with Mubi releasing the film through its platform globally, The Fall should reach a new generation of storytellers who might recognize Roy’s broken bandit within themselves, and might even be encouraged to let him live.
The Fall is available to stream on September 27 on MUBI and in select theaters starting on October 15.
Nadira Begum is a freelance film critic and culture writer based in the UK. To see her talk endlessly about film, TV, and her love of vampires, you can follow her on Twitter (@nadirawrites) or Instagram (@iamnadirabegum).