I’m really elated that people are getting on board with this idea of a collective review blog. It just makes me happy to see that people are expressing their opinions, and it makes me even happier that I was able to facilitate it. Now the next step to legitimacy is a sustained blog – one that keeps going into the foreseeable future, instead of just a flash in the pan. That’s been a challenge for me in the past; I often begin great undertakings and never get around to finishing them (read: IMDb Top 250 project). But anyway, let’s get into the review, since I anticipate it being a long one.
Into the Wild was written and directed by Sean Penn, who has really had to work hard for my respect, since he just seems like such an ass. However, he has proven himself as a great actor, and now a great filmmaker. Into the Wild has vaulted itself into the second tier of my favorite movies – not all time best, but really really great.
Disgusted with the materialism of the world around him and scarred by a broken family life, Christopher McCandless left everything behind to pursue a life on the road, stopping to meet and get to know people on the way, and eventually deciding to live off the land in Alaska in an attempt to find purity and happiness in solitude, which is the way he saw that man was meant to be.
McCandless, who took the name Alexander Supertramp for his travels, leaves an indelible mark on all who cross his path, and the movie gives us the impression that all of his companions are better people when he left them from when he found them. However, it’s hard to ignore the sadness and tragedy that each person felt when he moved on, and each time he does, I really wanted him to stay, because it seemed like he was happy where he was.
When he gets to Alaska, McCandless has an up-and-down existence, reading and making discoveries about himself that I won’t spoil for those who haven’t seen it.
There’s a real profound quality about the movie, in what Christopher McCandless, played by Emile Hirsch, says, in what the people he meets say, in the voice-over narration by McCandless and his sister, and in the actions of McCandless – whether reinspiring romance, showing an aging man a new outlook on life, or fighting for survival in the Alaskan wilderness.
It’s a credit to Penn as a writer and Hirsch as an actor that the character of McCandless was portrayed so believably, despite how outlandish he was. At no point did I think, “No way could he have done that.” He just seems like a once-in-a-lifetime person you meet, a person who makes you smile and frown at the same time when you remember him, because as Red put it in the Shawshank Redemption, “I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone. I guess I just miss my friend.” That line makes me choke up every time, and it couldn’t apply more to this movie.
It’s very tough to have this strong a message in a movie (that of finding happiness your own way, either through people, nature, what-have-you, outside of materialism, so it’s a real happiness) without getting preachy, but Penn pulls it off, mainly because the film never speaks to the audience about these things – it either speaks to the characters or to itself, which seems to make it all the more powerful.
And if the first half (or two-thirds) of the movie is uplifting with the spirit of freedom and independence, the latter part is just as heartbreaking with the sadness McCandless leaves in his wake – the old man (played for an Oscar nomination by Hal Holbrook) who loved him so much in a short period that he asked to adopt Chris, the young girl in Slab City, and most of all, his family.
In the movie, McCandless only interacts with his family once, after his graduation. His parents are horrifying materialists, played by William Hurt and Marcia Gay Harden (film buffs are beginning to realize now in this review how well-cast this movie is), but his sister is the deepest tragedy of them all, and it’s where I lost sympathy for Chris. He left without so much as a letter or phone call to the one person he said understood him. Her voice-overs are poignant, and progress from wistful to hurt and lonely over the course of the film. However, all we get of the parents after he leaves are mute expressions of strangled guilt at the knowledge that they drove him away.
I really wish I could write more, because this review feels unfinished, but it took a lot out of me. Looking back, I feel that the main strength of this movie was in its ability to get the audience really invested in the characters and the story. I started to get bleary-eyed just while writing about McCandless’ sister. I may come back tomorrow and flesh it out some more, but I’ll leave you with one thing for now: this is a great, great movie, but it’s a real tough watch. Its tragedy, unlike the darkest moments of romantic comedies or other cheap tear-jerker moments, is real and earned and doesn’t pull any punches or exaggerate. The total palpability of the grief of everyone involved will weigh on you – don’t plan on doing anything fun right after seeing this movie. But see it anyway.
