I love movies like Frailty, a sturdily constructed film that maps its path according to several possible outcomes; its potentialities wind around each other so intricately that the film could come to any one of a half-dozen endings and still make absolute sense. It's a mystery that doesn't insult its audience with a false surprise ending but chooses instead to challenge the audience--not to mention itself--by arguing both sides of the disturbing question at its core.

Though it's framed by action happening in the present day, Frailty's real story occurs in 1979. A widower, referred to in the credits appropriately as "Dad" and played by Bill Paxton, attempts to raise his two sons in their small house next to the town's rose garden. Dad is written as an almost unbelieveably good person and a patient father--Paxton's laid-back approach to acting has never suited a character better. His sons seem too get along well enough with each other, though, in a dynamic that becomes important as the plot darkens, there is a distinct sense that the younger Adam feels he has to compete with his older brother Fenton for their father's affection. Even with the loss of their mother, everything is fine in their lives--until the night Dad walks into their room and tells them about the vision he just had. Apparently, an angel visited Dad in the night, and said that his purpose--and his sons' purpose--on this earth is to destroy "demons," who commit vile acts while in human guise. Frailty deals with this subject well; dealing with seemingly irrevocable changes is a concept that has taken on new importance over the past year, and Frailty handles it with care and truthfulness.

From there, the issues the movie deals with become increasingly more gripping and more complex. From the time Dad first tells his sons about his "vision," we don't know if his experience is real, a delusion, or even a purposely contrived fantasy to make a basically normal family feel important in the eyes of God. The third option falls away with the first murder, and the audience is left with two choices--either Dad is a divinely sanctioned murderer or is utterly insane. Frailty's greatest success is that it develops its story beautifully, providing evidence to support both conclusions, all the while preying on the audience's preconceptions.

No action in this film allows just one interpretation. For instance, regardless of whether he's acting on behalf of Good or Evil, Dad's relationship with his boys shifts as his older son refuses to accept his divine mission and the younger one claims to have visions as well, though we're unsure if that is from true experience or merely from a misguided attempt to curry favor. Dad becomes increasingly angry toward his older son as the film progresses, and Frailty lets its audience see this reaction as three things at once--a kind man's hope that others perform good deeds, a fanatic's insistence that others adhere to what he believes, and a father's regretful and angry responsibility to punish a recalcitrant child. No motivation in Frailty is simple.

Despite the fact that Frailty seems to answer many of the questions it presents, its uncomfortable answers are usually ambivalent and equivocal. With each scene, Frailty fits more of its pieces together--but it also enlarges the puzzle. I can't in good conscience write more than that, as to go any further into the subject would ruin the movie's intricate plotlines. Suffice it to say that Frailty may sometimes give us answers, but the truth is for us to decide.