When I left this film my friend asked if I was alright. That was no coincidence. My face was clearly reflecting the feelings of mild shell-shock at what I had just seen. ‘Enjoy’ is not the right word for this film. It absorbs every fibre of your being into the American West and refuses to let go until the end.

On the surface it seems a simple premise. Director Alejandro González Iñárritu focuses on the tale of Hugh Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio), a fur trapper left for dead on a hunting mission in the 1820s American West. The film develops into a tale of revenge between Glass and Tom Hardy’s character John Fitzgerald. But beneath this simplicity is a subtle exploration of major forces of existence, swinging from survival to the meaning of the divine – all within the two and a half hour running time.

Undoubtedly, the star of this film is the cinematography. Each shot was a work of art, with the camera sweeping from vast glaciers to snowy forests – justifying the methodical use of only natural light to build this film. All the human actors are totally dwarfed by nature; a shot of DiCaprio trudging totally alone across a vast glacier is something to behold. The tracking shots used in the opening sequence perfectly draw the viewer into the terror of the fur trappers as they flee from the vengeful First Nations warriors.

At this film’s heart is survival and all its attendant pain. All the publicity for this film has focused on what DiCaprio went through to create his performance and the end result certainly justifies the means. He produces a very physical portrayal of Glass but it is startlingly effective. This is not the pithy, eloquent DiCaprio of The Wolf of Wall Street. This is gritty DiCaprio at his finest. In one scene he is caught up in the maelstrom of a freezing river, and I totally forgot I was watching a film. By genuinely putting DiCaprio in a freezing river, Iñárritu added a layer of realism lost in modern cinema. DiCaprio’s pain feels real because, frankly, it partly is, and that makes his performance all the more believable.

However this is not a one-man show. The rest of the cast provide sterling performances that complete the picture. Tom Hardy is menacing as John Fitzgerald, a brooding presence willing to do anything to succeed in the bleakness of the American Frontier. Will Poulter is another highlight as Jim Bridger, portraying brilliantly the terror of a young man broken by his experiences on the expedition – memories of his breakout role as Eustace in the Narnia films are long gone. Indeed the First Nations actors have received a criminally low amount of media attention, passing over some of the strongest performances in the film.

Yet, despite all this, Iñárritu has not created perfection. It is very easy to get caught up in a film’s imagery and forgive its other failings. Much of this film lacks dialogue. DiCaprio’s character is silent for so long it is shocking when he speaks. Many of the film’s shots are the struggle of men trudging through the endless expanses of the American West. And this leaves the film feeling strangely incomplete. I can understand that Iñárritu was looking to use this silence to portray the isolation of those left alone with nature. But this could have been balanced with more scenes that develop the multiple parties we cut between in this film. It would have been fascinating to have had a reasonable portion of screen time with the group of First Nations people, exploring their drive for revenge against the invading Americans. Striking imagery does not produce a coherent film, and at times the film feels like it is trying to say too much. Iñárritu’s vision was too mind-boggling to be contained by the paltry limits of the screen. If he had reined himself in, and created a tighter narrative, the themes would have shone through all the stronger.

Overall, this film is a flawed work of art, pushing the boundaries of filmmaking, with the consequence of losing some narrative coherency. It remains the most beautiful film I’ve ever seen, but not the best. Nevertheless, I believe it will be the film that gets DiCaprio his elusive Oscar – if it doesn’t, I dread to think what he’ll put himself through next.