Oliver Black (Xander Berkeley) is an artist of high regard. Of late middle age, he’s quiet, unassuming; an insular being, as artists often are. When he wakes one morning to find his beloved wife Evelyn (Sarah Clarke) has died in her sleep beside him, his whole life changes, as you’d expect it would. But Alchemy of the Spirit also in moves in some ways you may not.

Anyone who’s ever experienced the unexpected loss of a loved one will identify with Oliver’s horrified, disbelieving reaction. But then a new emotional journey begins to play out; of love and loss, but also of awakening; a butterfly struggling from its cramped cocoon, wings unfurling to the sun. The contrast between his personal metamorphosis and the relentless harsh intrusions of the outside world (epitomised by his brash agent Alex, played expertly by Mink Stole) is presented with such mastery that it’s impossible not to cringe along with Oliver at every jarring interruption that breaks into the dream-like bubble of a world he finds himself in. The phone ringing, a neighbour dropping by, an essential trip to the store; each of these have emphases trained on them with a perfection that borders on unbearable. We’re not simply watching, we’re right there in his place.

While this is a story of devastating grief, at the same time it’s following a positive path of growth; that of Oliver’s existence as an artist, and as a person in his own right. Part of him is overshadowed in the black and blue of his bereavement, though within the artist inside something’s being drawn of those shadows into the light, as if Evelyn’s death has become a catalyst for a new version of that part of his soul. The cinematography represents this exquisitely, and the music, courtesy of Heather Schmidt, brings the whole silken tapestry together with a finesse that’s quite simply awe-inspiring.

On top of the beautifully handled theme, moulded it would seem by the hands of a skilled artist himself (director Steve Balderson), the acting is faultless; the chemistry between the characters of Oliver and Evelyn equals that of a true couple devoted to one another for life; friends, lovers, soulmates. It wasn’t until I was researching for this review that I realised they’re a married couple for real, which only added to the poignancy. Having seen Berkeley’s work before (in the original Candyman), I knew of his acting skills but not his versatility. I don’t think it would’ve mattered had he and Clarke not actually been a couple; the sheer, raw humanity with which they play their roles is so saturated with emotion it’s breathtaking.

Reading the credits at the end, I was thrilled beyond measure to discover that Berkeley himself was responsible for the paintings and sculptures featured in the film. Each of these realisations only added to the spellbinding power of Alchemy of the Spirit. I cannot rate this movie highly enough. It’s gentle, heartbreaking, achingly beautiful, and uplifting; as Evelyn describes passing from the world of the living being like music, so I would describe this entire film. It’s a work of art indeed, poetry in motion. It’s not one you’ll just watch; you’ll live it, breathe it, feel its pulse. It’s one of the finest films I’ve ever encountered. Don’t let it pass by unseen, but keep the tissues handy; if you have a soul it’ll weep.

10 out of 10 Moving Pictures