I admire Darren Aronofsky as a filmmaker. I think he came out of the gate strongly with Pi and has so far continued in that fashion with Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler. Even so, The Fountain isn't quite as leftfield a direction for Aronofsky as it might at first seem. Pi, for instance, certainly established a precedent for exploring overtly metaphysical and spiritual themes. What makes The Fountain important in Aronofsky's filmography are the densely layered visuals and unconventional storytelling – two aspects that differ greatly from the otherwise naturalistic and linear approaches to his previous films.

So that puts Aronofsky in context, but why do I think so highly of The Fountian? It doesn't shy away from tackling the big issues of death, grief and loss (themes that I find resonate with me), and it utilises a fantasy framework to do so. The reason the later is so important is because I've always felt that fantasy has the unique ability to consider the human condition in the abstract, offering an original perspective and recasting what is familiar in a new light, revealing an awful lot more in the process than naturalistic modes of storytelling. And yes, I do consider The Fountain to be more a fantasy than science fiction, closer to magic realism and myth-making than extrapolating a potential future based on current scientific trends. The medical science we see in the film is incidental to its thematic development – the later informs the former. We tend to find the reverse is true when dealing with science fiction.

Perhaps part of the reason for the film's critical and commercial failure is because it is so unreservedly honest about our struggle with death and finding meaning in dark places. As a Christian, I don't believe in the idea of rebirth as portrayed in the film, and I actually find the image of the nebula reducing Tom to nothing to be decidedly nihilistic (he isn't reborn; the tree is), but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the very human struggle that's at the heart of the film. Rarely do we see someone break down on screen as we do when Tommy returns home from Izzie's funeral, realises he is still missing his wedding ring and, through uncontrollable tears, begins to tattoo his ring finger using the pen and ink she gave him. It's a sublimely acted, but confronting scene, showing grief at its most raw, and I don't mind admitting that by the time it rolls around, I'm a blubbering mess. As Izzie, Rachel Weisz brings a childlike acceptance to her condition, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. The film is really a two-hander between Jackman and Weisz, and their chemistry is evident.

I've also stopped trying to shoehorn the film's three timelines into a convenient, explainable narrative. I've finally realised that doing so was never, ever, the point. Instead of narrative cues, Aronofsky chooses to connect the timelines with numerous visual ones – geometric patterns, harsh transitional lighting, the image of the Xibalba nebula – which in turn become metaphysical and spiritual associations that bridge the time between the periods, leaving the story itself open to interpretation and refusing to offer any trite or sentimental conclusions (something Aronofsky also handled magnificently in The Wrestler).

On a geekier note, I love the dark fantasy feel to the Conquistador sequences. From the scenes in Spain with the Inquisitor and Queen Isabella's palace, to the dark jungles of New Spain, the set design is less concerned with accurately recreating the period as it is with enhancing the idea of an ongoing struggle for meaning, occasionally finding beauty (the amazing, surreal palace with its floating points of light, the Tree at the top of the pyramid) amidst the brooding atmosphere. A lot of that atmosphere is down to the sound design, which in this case I find to be extremely immersive; a fairly dry mix that avoids a lot of reverb that would ordinarily be used to space out sounds. The future sequences, for example,  are nearly devoid of any sound.

Another factor that works magnificently in the film’s favour is Clint Mansell’s score. His minimalist approach – building on short, repititious phrases – builds on the format he used for Requiem, again utilising the Kronos Quartet and adding Scottish rockers Mogwai to the mix. As with Michael Nyman's score for Gattaca, Mansell’s work here was unfairly criticised because of this approach, minimalism being something that is definitely not appreciated by film score fans (not to mention that fact that Mansell comes from a rock and isn't classically trained). The end product, especially on album, sounds like something approaching a 70's prog-rock concept album. There are three major ‘timeline’ themes, which are really just versions of each other and again reinforce the idea that the search for meaning is one we have struggled with forever.  The score culminates in the exquisite 'Death is the Road to Awe' sequence, a piece that builds to such a climax that the burst of choir and piercing strings as the nebula goes supernova becomes an extraordinary act of catharsis. As the credits roll, it's followed by one of the most haunting piano pieces I've ever heard, 'Together We Will Live Forever'. I'd recommend paying a couple of dollars to get a good quality download of both pieces.

When I first saw The Fountain, I was also striving to 'make sense' of the whole thing, and a lot of people's criticism revolves around not being able to do exactly that. To write the film off because of this is to miss the point though. You just need to let it wash over you, let the catharsis do its work. If humanity has always struggled with accepting death and whatever comes after, then it's hardly fair to expect a film of all things to have all the answers. In this sense, Aronofsky has done the best that could be expected of him, especially given the hoops he had to jump through to get this picture made. I'm looking forward to reading the graphic novel, which I should have soon, which Aronofsky wrote after the first incarnation of the film fell through. It's supposed to be based on his complete script and include a lot of the more expensive set pieces he had to remove for the final film version.

Watch The Fountain again without forcing it to make ‘your’ kind of sense, and you should find, as I did, that it relieves some of the baggage we bring when we consider death, love and life.