This review comes from The Pointer, the student newspaper at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point. While hardly an epic, I’m a little surprised at the length of this piece. Certainly I was trying to make the case for a film I though was excellent and all too likely to be ignored by my fellow twentysomethings, but it still looks to me like it would have wound up being an awful lot of column inches devoted to my opinions. I remember endlessly championing cinematographer Philippe Rousselot by name when Oscar season came around, but I clearly hadn’t gotten his French moniker down by this point. I’m also amused by the way I chose to quietly concede that Craig Sheffer isn’t actually very good in the film, as well as the necessity to explain to the reader where they may have previously seen Brad Pitt.

A strong, dark fishing line whips out over a briskly running stream, the line bending and cascading through the air in swooping patterns until it settles into the bustling river with a tiny, satisfying splash. At the other end of the line is a patient fisherman in deep concentration, soaking in the generous sunlight and hoping that “a fish will rise.” Though this seems a simple scene, according to the new movie “A River Runs Through It,” there are deeper truths to be found below the surface.

Based on the late Norman Maclean’s highly autobiographical novella of the same name, “A River Runs Through It” is a poetic film that sets itself in early 20th century Montana. Building on Maclean’s reminiscences about his life and family, the film is about subtle struggles and tiny, yet meaningful, truths. Craig Sheffer takes the role of Norman and plays the more respectable brother with a suitably plain demeanor. Norman adheres closely to the moralistic beliefs set forth by his pleasant but firm minister father (Tom Skerritt, in an outstanding performance). Norman’s brother, however, is a different matter. Played with impressive zest by Brad Pitt (“Thelma and Louise”), Paul is a clever, energetic young man caught up in the role of scoundrel. Paul’s crimes are small–drinking, gambling, fighting–but they have a tremendous impact on his family members, all of whom are constantly wishing and waiting for the boy to turn to the straight and narrow. The film is set to degrade into an overly sentimental dramatization of the good brother vs. bad brother, yet it neatly sidesteps that cliched route by letting us see the characters as something more. And the place where we find these people at their best is knee deep in the Big Blackfoot River.

Injected into the boys by their father is a love of fly fishing and a sense that the activity is something more than casting a line and hooking a trout. The boys are taught to listen for the words of God beneath the noisy rapids of the river and accept the bounty of a day spent fishing as a pure blessing. It is while practicing the art of fly fishing–and make no mistake, in the film it is indeed an art–that the brothers are at their best. Paul in particular seems to undergo a transformation> His devilish tendencies are washed away as he finds contentment in the water. His rebellious streak becomes a virtue as he breaks away from the standard rhythm to find a new technique and a new artistry all his own. Fishing is what allows this family to find their bond. On the river is where connections are made, confessions are accepted, and their admiration for each other can flow freely.

The importance of the river is fully conveyed by the directing job of Robert Redford. The camera captures this light that plays off the rippling water, the light spray of the rapids, and the sheer power of the rushing currents and displays its awe-inspiring beauty. The river–and in fact all of the natural surroundings that protect the characters–are shot with such care and respect that the significance of the environment’s splendor is undeniable.

In a personal and completely heartfelt manner, Robert Redford has brought the life of Norman Maclean to the screen, often using the original words of Maclean to enhance the richness of the setting. In beautifully understated voiceover narration provided by Redford himself (essentially playing the elder Norman Maclean), the original novella’s wonderfully crafted descriptions come vividly to life. The river is a powerful force that comes to dominate the lives of these characters, though not in a fierce, troubling way. The river is about hope and purity, and the fact that the simplest wishes can sometimes be the most satisfying. The river is giving and loving.

In the closing narration, the elder Maclean somberly admits, “I am haunted by waters.” After watching the lush film that precedes it, the statement makes an awful lot of sense.