Raising more questions than it wants to answer, Steep, which opens in New York, Los Angeles and selected wintery climes this weekend, provides picturesque, positive propaganda about "wild skiing" and other snowy "out of bounds" activities that go far beyond the strictures of winter resorts and stretch to the breaking point the boundaries of what a man on skis can achieve. Make no mistake, this is a man's world: only two women appear on screen, one who is celebrated for skiing like "a dude with a ponytail" (or words to that effect) while the other is praised for her tolerance and loyal support of her husband's adventures. To a person, though, every skier is shown to be an enthusiastic, rational human being, well aware of the dangers involved yet compelled to keep leaping off tall buildings in a single bound -- er, make that, ski down incredibly steep mountains with breathless anticipation.

The words "daredevil" and "thrill-seeker" are never spoken, though I imagine that, like myself, many civilians might call to mind a syndicated 1970s television series that allowed couch potatoes to watch people risk their lives in every segment. Here the argument is made that, at least for a few, it's not as much of a risk if you're truly skilled at what you're doing. The evidence on display plainly speaks to the point that the skiers are tremendously talented, finely-tuned athletes. Quite often the footage frames the tiny figures of skiers against immense backdrops of magnificent mountain ranges that are staggering in their beauty. The athletes appear to defy gravity by remaining upright while descending incredibly sleep slopes -- we're informed that slopes of more than 50 degrees are preferred.

The skiers often talk about fear -- as in, "I couldn't believe how crazy steep that mountain looked!" -- but it's not something that arrests their attention; it's more like an allergic reaction that is quickly sneezed away and dismissed. They speak about death in the same detached manner. Even while acknowledging that friend after friend has died on the slopes, or recognizing that even a tiny mistake on a particular run would almost certainly result in death, the risks are weighed and the skis stay strapped on. To a large measure, this makes perfect sense. After all, if the possibilities of death and dismemberment are outweighed in one's mind by the prospect of renewed joy, peace and contentment, it would be crazy not to continue wild skiing on dangerously sleep slopes. And if fear took root in the mind of a skier, I imagine that he would have no alternative but to stop: fear might undermine the self-confidence and reckless abandon needed to barrel down a mountain at breakneck speeds and live to tell about it.

For those looking for an unbridled celebration of the sport, Steep is it. There are no qualifiers in its unabashed love for the participants and for every permutation of wild and/or extreme skiing. It happily promotes the passionate embrace of the outer edges, the romance of risk as a reason for living, and the philosophy espoused by Bill Briggs, the man credited with kick-starting the extreme skiing movement in the United States with his unprecedented conquest of Grand Teton: "Without risk there is no adventure."

Steep is fine and good if you're already a disciple of the movement or aspire to become one. But what about the rest of us, those of us who simply sit on the sofa, eat potato chips and consequently never really experience life (at least, according to one interview subject)?

What's left unexplored is the down side of extreme skiing, which might have provided greater ballast for all the expansive testimony about the glories of the sport. For all the talk about fear and death, we're never provided with any concrete numbers. One skier, for example, compares the risks involved with those of driving a car: if your friend died in a traffic accident, would that keep you from driving? Good point, but is it a valid comparison? Is it just as risky to drive in a car as it is to ski down a very steep, remote mountain?

This made me think of another comparison: Most of us try to avoid "life and death" situations and are grateful to survive; from the interviews presented, the skiers sound like, faced with a "life and death" situation, they'd say: "More, please!"

Again, it's understandable that the skiers would minimize the risks for themselves or not want to dwell on the subject. But director Mark Obenhaus misses out on the opportunity to dig deeper into the vexing questions raised by those of us who are not involved with the sport. One of the skiers says: "Some people might think I'm an adrenaline junkie, but I don't look at it that way." He views what he does as an exercise in creativity. We know that a shot of adrenaline provides a temporary high, so is he denying the rush? Or minimizing the effect it has on him?

On the other hand, Obenhaus does a fine job of filling in the history of big mountain skiing. Starting with the aforementioned pioneer Bill Briggs, the film paints a tantalizing picture of his achievement in creating something out of nothing in the early 1970s. The idea of skiing down the second highest mountain in the state of Wyoming had never occurred to anyone before, and even his friends thought he was crazy. No one actually witnessed his groundbreaking descent, but photographic evidence snapped from a helicopter -- ski tracks etched into the crown of the mountain -- galvanized others to follow in the path he had trod.

Briggs' idea was that his accomplishment should become commonplace, an adventure that everyone ought to experience. Thousands of miles away, dozens of fellow pioneers were already wild trekking through the mountains above Chomonix, France, descending slopes that looked like slightly tilted skyscrapers. The search for adventure expanded to untouched regions near Valdez, Alaska, in the early 1990s, where skiers started touching down more and more on mountains that were reachable only by helicopter. Some of the skiers also realized that they could fund their preferred lifestyle by becoming guides and leading extreme nature expeditions, allowing more people to share the wonder of charting their own trails.

Indeed, it is thrilling to watch the high mountain descents and admire the skill and nerve it takes to tackle the challenge. It's almost sufficient motivation to propel this particular couch potato out of his comfortably warm apartment and into the chilly winter air in order to strap on two planks and hurl himself down a steep incline.

Almost.

Visit Moviefone to watch the trailer and check showtimes near you. The official site has more information.

Tags: big mountain skiing, bill briggs, cinematical, extreme skiing, mark obenhaus, steep, wild skiing