It is no surprise that writer/director Michael Powell considered "A Matter of Life and Death," his and Emeric Pressburger's spellbinding fantasy from 1946 to be his favourite of their films together. Released during the aftermath of World War 2, this colourful romantic adventure would have provided just the tonic for a traumatised, recovering nation in need of a good uplift.

Following a string of other patriotic war films, 'The Archers' made this one their quirkiest, skittish and most patriotic of the lot. Quintessentially British for upholding British heritage (Shakespeare, beer, fair play, good manners), it is also visibly Americanised in its baroque compositions, technical inventiveness and a fine multi-ethnic cast.

Oddly echoing another 1946 classic, "It's a Wonderful Life," AMOLAD opens on a grand firmament, with one of those jolly voice-overs preaching about the earth and the heavens, and what a big, wonderful world we live in. 

It then cuts to the inside of a British cockpit, badly hit, up in flames and with the co-pilot already dead. It sounds misconceived, but the connection is soon made lucid with the events that follow.

Clocking in at nearly 5 minutes, the rapid-fire exchange between British pilot Peter (David Niven) and American radio contact June (Kim Hunter) is breathtaking in its intimacy. Resigned to dying, Peter nevertheless exhausts plenty of vigour, charm and outpouring confessions, and his warm affiliation with June closes with a mutual exchange of 'I love you.' 

Keeping with the magic of the moment, Peter, by oversight of his Conductor 71 whose job it was to transport him to the 'Other World,' escapes death and finds himself stranded on a beach. He later encounters June riding a bicycle, and instantly matches the body with the voice. 

But realising their error, the high court want Peter sent back, and order the French Conductor (Maurice Goring) down to earth to retrieve him. But Peter is adamant to live because of June and the Conductor's mistake, and wilfully guards his corner.

Peter's fate ultimately lies with the heavenly court and American prosecutor (Raymond Massey), whose jury consists of several deceased war heroes and posh British delegates. The surreal trial, which dissolves from b/w back into rich Technicolor, once the verdict is announced, may well be a dream, but the final shot in the hospital validates the predictable outcome.

The abstract, frame filling "stairway to heaven" (the American title of the film) is used twice: the first time in b/w, when it elevates Peter and his enigmatic French guardian upwards, crossing giant statues of Peter's potential attorneys for the trial, including Abraham Lincoln and Plato. The second time, the softly lit colour stairway provides the setting for what is an iconic image in cinema - Peter and June frozen side-by-side, their marvelled eyes fixed forward in the frame, their fate sealed.

The unlikely affection shared between Peter and June never turns mushy or verbose; it's treated with nobility and the perception that the couple are already suitable enough to be married and simply need to convince people of their love, so it can keep them together. 

The French Conductor, who can freeze time and people's bodies, obtrudes many of their key moments together, lecturing Peter about history and among his mischievous tricks, pinching Peter's 'Top 100 Game Tricks' book and his coffee cup.

As visually inspired as other Powell/Pressburger collaborations, this was the first time they combined colour with b/w  the latter having a cheerful quality when used for the heaven scenes, and both are equally captivating. 

The outstanding script more than matches the imaginative set design, with dialogue that sounds so immediate that is doesn't feel like it was written or performed for the screen. Amusing and witty, Powell/Pressburger's writing deserves equal acclamation with their forte for colour and composition.

Made in 1946, "A Matter of Life and Death" is one of those films that defies it age, looking fresh and inventive, even in this age where CGI would vamp up its artificial effects, probably stripping them of their emotional wonder. 

Other jarring changes would include the need for reduced average seconds for cutting and the inevitable plea to shorten dialogue so it can preserve the low attention spans of most audiences. Powell weaves a spell that subconsciously absorbs the viewer from the first frame, giving him freedom to experiment with images without betraying the logical development of Peter's predicament.

Sentiment: positive