There is great expanse in Aloft, a contemplative, magical-surrealist drama from first-time feature film director Claudia Llosa, which comes in the form of the film’s snow-blanketed great white North setting, as well as its sweeping and far-reaching themes of faith and forgiveness. Unfortunately, this also extends to its slow-trudging pace and heavy-handed storytelling, making for a passionately made film that may appease patient viewers willing to join the emotional tale, but makes for an overly-saturated, lofty, experience.

At its core, Aloft is a film about a devoted mother’s absence from her young children’s lives (with a supernatural element being part of that reason) and a now grown son traveling to reconnect with her. Visually, (and despite the film’s ice and chill in every shot), each frame is wonderfully filled with warm and lovely performances and cinematography that is obvious of this director’s heartfelt intention to drive home a fully realized artistic intention, which also comes with overly-inflated emotional scenes.

Jennifer Connelly returns to the big screen as Nana, seen in the beginning of the film as a single mother bringing her children to a sort of spiritual gathering held in the snowy outdoor terrain. Winter-dressed attendees, we see anxious hopefulness in the gathered families, with the sickly wishing to be seen by a shaman (William Shimell), who brings a randomly chosen member into a stick-built hut resembling a bird’s nest to perform mystic rituals to attempt to cure one of these wishful’s.

Connelly as Nana displays an assured and quiet strength while keeping hope for her children and herself, even after her young son, Ivan’s (Zen McGrath) pet falcon enters the shaman’s hut during a curing in process, leading her into the private ritual. Her accidental presence ultimately reveals that perhaps she, a struggling single mother, has mystic curing gifts as well, that challenge the shaman’s himself.

While it may put off select audiences unwilling to stay along for its slow-paced and heavy-handed viewing, there is a reward in its intimacy and commitment from all parties to tell this strangely beautiful story.

Cut to many years later, a reporter, Jannia, (Mélanie Laurent) visits the home of an adult Ivan (Cillian Murphy) to interview him about his mother, who we learn may or may not have real healing powers, depending on who you ask. Ivan’s reluctance to speak with her suggests tension since the aforementioned days of his childhood though it’s not initially expressed. Ivan, with a wife and baby of his own, is all mood and sharp edges, and we learn that his reservations come from ill feelings towards his mother, which the reporter presses Ivan over. Her persistence and seriousness convinces a still stingy Ivan to travel with her, to see his mother for the first time in a long time.

That “long time” is shown in alternating timelines, with the current day travels of Jannia and the older Ivan (and his falcon) as well as with the young Ivan and Nana, picking up after the stirring introduction. Connelly is our singular lead here, as we see her exasperated, but persevering character learn of her involvement with inadvertently curing a sickly person on that fateful day, which overwhelms not only her but her son Ivan as well.

Claudia Llosa manages the effort of balancing these stories out well, especially since we, as the audience, are unsure of what childhood event caused the older Ivan to hold wounded scorn towards his mother. The revelation ties together a blame against his mother for acting on her supernatural belief, which comes at a price for their youngest family member.

The film’s climax comes at the point where we see, after a traumatic family event, Nana’s confrontation with young Ivan about plunging into the abyss of what may be divinity or superstition. Murphy holds onto his emotionally retreating guard until reconnecting with his mother, now gray-haired and committed to herself as a self-realized shaman and media-skirting question mark, which reveals Jannia’s ulterior motives in finding Nana and an emotionally cathartic ending for all involved.

Aloft holds a peculiar and heartfelt story with Llosa’s strongly held artistically-yearning bend. While it may put off select audiences unwilling to stay along for its slow-paced and heavy-handed viewing, there is a reward in its intimacy and commitment from all parties to tell this strangely beautiful story.

Aloft opens at the Laemmle Royal this weekend.