Although she conceals it with makeup, Jean's cheek, stained with a violet bruise, is as battered as her heart. Although ointment numbs his crude wounds from a bear attack, no dose of morphine can lift Mitch's melancholy. Although his son has been dead for 11 years, the aftertaste of mourning still lingers, flavoring Einar's harsh words.
Set against the immense verdure and brazen skies of Ishatoa, Wyo., these three lives are linked by the death of Griffin -- Jean's husband, Mitch's friend and Einar's son, whose tombstone reads "An Unfinished Life."
Reminiscent of director Lasse Hallström's other films such as What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, An Unfinished Life is the small-town story of the dynamics of a family -- its crescendos into fury, its descents into anguish, its riffs of tenderness. Echoing The Cider House Rules, it portrays a saga of harsh healing, an austere landscape of the heart and the peculiar varieties of love that emerge between humans.
Kings of the screen, Robert Redford's Einar and Morgan Freeman's Mitch preside as a mesmerizing duo of old cowboys. Their cantankerous banter displays the lilting rhythm of their friendship, a relationship fermented by both time and pain. Moments of humor are complemented by scenes of sublime intimacy, such as when Einar gingerly applies the healing ointment on his friend's mauled back or when Mitch wonders aloud whether Einar will ever stop hating the world that took away his son.
Jennifer Lopez deserves commendation, though no lavish praise, for her role as Jean, who, fleeing from her latest bad boyfriend, seeks refuge at her estranged former father-in-law's ranch. Sometimes, Lopez scintillates with rage at Einar or glimmers with affection for her 11-year-old daughter, Griff. In other scenes, she retreats into a lackluster and distant performance.If someone had spent her whole life under a rock, she might be able to wholeheartedly buy the diva's act as a guilt-ridden widow, a mother who is "trying her best." But at times when she's taking orders for meatloaf and mashed potatoes at the local diner, it's hard not to stare down the low-cut collar and think, "J. Lo."
The characters in the film are revealed by a device that's both mystifyingly complex and strangely simple: the bear. The agent of Mitch's disfigurement, the grizzly continues to roam the country until he is caught by the local authorities. As a foil character, he illuminates the state of souls: Einar wants to shoot the beast; Mitch wants to feed him and eventually free him. The bear bequeaths a symbolism and mystery to the film.
The heart and soul of An Unfinished Life resides in its undercurrent of remorse and the ripples of resentment surrounding Griffin's death. But it is also a journey towards repentance. Through the broken lives of his characters, Hallström illuminates the bittersweet remedy of forgiveness. As Mitch tells Einar, "I believe the dead forgive us of our sins."