The opening images of "The Danish Girl" take us across the glorious expanses of the Danish countryside. Not only do they eventually bridge us to the world of the city, the busy streets of Copenhagen (specifically Nyhavn) by being showcased in an art gallery as the main creative spark of painter Einar Wegener, but they also give the viewer the sense of freedom and calm from the imminent storm. More to the point, the natural landscapes, in the context of the narrative and its ending highlight the transformation of Einar to his "natural" state and that transformation's manifestation away from the oppressive and man-made city.

Based on the true story of Einar Wegener and his transformation into Lili Elbe, Tom Hooper's latest effort explores an array of themes ranging from the inversion of the male gaze, the conflict between your gender and your gender identification and the impact it has on the most crucial of relationships.

"The Danish Girl" might be the most mature work of the filmmaker who has also helmed the Oscar-winner "The King's Speech" and "Les Miserables." Like those films, this one is filled with intense emotion, but there is greater subtlety in the execution of the storytelling, the technique of the craft reaching a new refinement that has yet to be seen in Hooper to date. Where his films featured prominent stylistic hoopla that was overly obvious at times (see the extensive use of wide angle lenses on closeups during music numbers in "Les Miserables" or the sometimes distracting emphasis on empty space in "The King's Speech"), this one takes those techniques and reigns them in to fit the narrative context for the viewer. His trademark use of empty space in closeups returns from time to time, but when it does, it emphasizes a particularly uncomfortable situation for the character. One such example is Einar's wife Gerda's first meeting with an art dealer, where her relegation to the lower right side of the frame leaves a lot of headroom, expressing how small she is in this situation. Yet a later exchange between these characters re-establishes balance with a more traditional close up employed.

The film is abundant in its use of the closeup, but there is a wrinkle in its use here. Einar and Gerda's first interaction is highlighted by an awkward framing of a low angle on her and a more traditional high angle on him. It expresses the balance in their relationship and yet the use of the wide lens for her low angle creates a sense of asymmetry in the framing, expressing the fact that the characters' relationship is not quite as perfect as they imagine. From here on out, there is a prominent use of the traditional closeup in their interactions, yet there is still somewhat prominent depth of field. However, as Einar's conflict comes to the fore, the sense of isolation for the characters is expressed in a number of ways. The depth of field becomes shallower on the closeups. Einar is featured in fewer closeups, shots of him portrayed in wider framings, emphasizing his slow but inevitable departure from Gerda's life. Inversely, closeups of Lili become tighter and more prominent.

Wardrobe plays a central focus as well, particularly in the portrayal of Lili, whose colorful attire sets her apart from the more restrained palette of other people in the movie, Gerda included. In a rather interesting twist, her color palette is rather attuned to the varied color of Nyhavn with its blue, yellow, red and green houses dominating certain sections of the film. Yet that color palette is a huge shift from the greys and beiges of Paris' streets or even Germany.

Prominent visual motifs include nature and the prominent use of mirrors. As noted before, the film's opening and close are set in the Danish countryside, emphasizing Einar's overcoming a "mistake of nature" and transforming into his true self, a transfiguration if there ever was one. Nature returns in two other prominent scenes, both after Lili's gender confirmation surgery, expressing her growing closer and closer to her true nature; every other scene in the film takes place in a major city, emphasizing the world and restrictions of society imposed on the character and his wife. There are also a great deal of establishing shots outside major cities; over the course of the narrative more and more of these images are taken at night, suggesting Einar's slow but sure demise as a person and anticipating the rise of Lili (confirmed by the final scene of the film).

Einar is constantly found looking at himself in front of a mirror in the middle portions of the film, the imagery reflected back to him more important to the camera than the character himself, another expression of Einar's slow death and Lili's rebirth.

Musically, this film features a prominent ostinato theme in a triplet rhythm that creates a fascinating sense of energy when it appears in the nature sequences and at major transitional points in Einar's transformation. When this music in not at the forefront, composer Alexandre Desplat's music becomes slower in pace, introspective even as if searching for the release of the major theme.

While this movie is identified with Lili's rebirth and thus places her as its "main character," it belongs to Alicia Vikander's Gerda who takes a rather poignant journey along the way. Happy as can be at the start of the film, Vikander's ebullient smiles slowly fade away as Gerda tries to cope with losing her husband but still supporting this person that she has always loved. She drives the narrative throughout, coming to a reassessment of her own position on matters and proving to be the character that ultimately undergoes the greatest psychological transformation. Seeing her smile again in the late stages of the film is a release of tension that has built up in the more dreary sections. Vikander, who steals every scene in every movie she does, is at her best in expressing Gerda as a potent figure that always knows her next step even in her most confused circumstances.

Eddie Redmayne also gives a terrific performance, exploring himself physically in very much the same way as he did in his Oscar-winning turn in "The Theory of Everything." Where that film expected more and more expression from his eyes, this one requires a greater deal of expression from him arms for the transition. One of the most powerful moments comes in a scene at a brothel where Redmayne's Einar mimics the movements of a woman as he watches her through a window. Despite the physical barrier between them, Redmayne's movements are framed as a reflection, uniting Lili's body and spirit with the woman before him.

"The Danish Girl" is a poignant film in many respects. Not only does it tell a heart-rendering story of gender confirmation and the difficulty of letting go, but it does so in the most elegant manner of director Tom Hooper's career. Throw in two defining performances by Redmayne and Vikander and you have, without any doubt, one of the year's finest films.