A gathering of friends for the love of nature: this was the purpose of Sunday's end-of-summer movie night that commenced at the Trolley Barn Park on Adams Avenue ... good eats, good company, and good scenery made the event a success. Water balloon toss, Capture the Frisbee, Apples to Apples, Bocce Ball, and the ever-so-classic frisbee were among the highlights of the day. Not to mention the crispy, homemade potato salad, freshly-glazed, cinnamon-sprinkled tortilla chips accompanied by delicious fruit salsa, a juicy mango exploding with flavor, and thirst-quenching H20. However, it was not the activities or the presence of Mother Nature that created such fun and childlike exuberance but the shared experience with others that truly encapsulated the happiness I felt in my flowy, nature-green gown. This brings me to the evening's movie selection....
Who I was before, I can not recall. . . I feel I am falling, I am falling, safely to the ground. Eddie Vedder’s powerful lyrics piece the scenes of Sean Penn’s film, Into the Wild, together, based on the novel by John Krakauer and a true story of a courageous young man, that creates a sense of fluidity in the protagonist’s voice, Christopher McCandless, as well as that of Mother Nature, the second major focal point in the film. Even in the opening, Eddie Vedder’s raw wailing and earthy guitar sound sets forth the tone of the film and the haunting, beautiful, and inspiring journey that is about to take place. The raw intensity of Vedder’s voice parallels the spontaneity and carnal bravery performed by the protagonist from the beginning through until the end of his journey to Alaska, almost as if Vedder speaks for Chris, otherwise known as Alexander Supertramp, the newfound pseudonym he adopts during his road trip. Supertramp is naive and wholly persistent on getting to Alaska, highly discontent with society: You think you have to want more than you need. . .Until you have it all, you won’t be free….
The entire premise of the movie, the quintessential point Chris is attempting, and hoping to make, is that happiness does not come from things, both material and monetary; it comes from the nature that surrounds us. To become free, we must abandon our laws and principles, and embrace land and sea, plants and animals. We must hunt for survival and utilize the tools we have learned through education, individuals, and prior life experience to achieve success, almost as if to begin again and recreate the world as it was meant to be. Vedder and McCandless, through song and actions, deem society as ultimately “lonely,” because it commends immaterial things as important as the values we, as a community, and as a nation, should uphold and breathe in and out daily. He challenges what America is and all it has created to be as Christopher happens to disagree with “Society” and through Vedder thinks I hope you’re not lonely without me. The poignant and disturbing scene that paints this distinct hierarchical and slanted society Chris resents so adamantly, is that of when Chris finds himself in Los Angeles after a long and fulfilling journey through the desert and roaring rapids. Though without money and any forms of identification thus far, Chris had felt like an equal with his surroundings, stripped of all bearings and free from any status or labels. Stepping into the blurry Los Angeles streets, Chris goes from fearless adventurer and vagabond to homeless and an outcast, coerced to seek shelter, to wait in line, to confront what he tried to leave behind. How thwarted that, in this different scenario, Chris is the lowest level of society. Where before he could sleep on Mother Nature’s solid ground with very few resources and money, he becomes ostracized in the midst of lights, smog, cars, and buildings: The concrete jungle was not home. This point, of course, was highlighted because Chris had been away from “the real world” for so long, he could no longer distinguish between the journey he was living and the American reality. (Please DO NOT read forward, if you haven’t seen the film or read the book. . . Details will be revealed.)
Of course, in the end, after spending months in isolation with only himself to converse with (mostly through his journals and books), Chris gradually descends into a world deprived of normalcy and the basic human need to connect with others. In addition to the absence of resources and a substantial food supply, Chris remains stuck on the lonely bus, slowly deteriorating. The crucial point where the audience and Chris sense his own downward spiral is his grand attempt to hunt and cook a moose towards the end of his Alaskan stay. In this scene, Chris uses the prior information told to him from someone he met along his journey to make sure to strip and cover the moose within a very brief span of time before the flies and maggots devour it. We see Chris, at the beginning of his stay in Alaska, evading any means to slay the animal, for he had other satiating resources at the time, but during his food shortage crisis, Chris reluctantly, with the instinct of survival, kills the animal and works rapidly to prepare it for cooking. Chris struggles to save the meat but does not succeed, snapping mentally from his failure, his personality unraveling. He and the emotive audience come to the realization that Chris cannot survive on his own. Though naive and stubborn, the audience roots for him to overcome the obstacles in his path, to get across the river, and get back home. It’s ironic that Chris tries to evade all the dangers that confront him, yet the natural dangers overcome his cautions- he attempts to cross the river before the winter comes, but the water is too fierce (heightened by his fear of water); he attempts to prepare the moose, but fails and becomes regretful of his kill; and, finally, he takes his field guide to the region’s edible plants only to find he mistakes the poisonous root for the edible one, ultimately leading to his starvation . . . and death.
The most touching and frustrating element throughout the film is Chris’ brief encounters and relationships with those individuals around him. Only upon the film’s closing does Chris realize that it’s his relationships with caring and sensitive individuals, those who teach him something about life and love, that are most valuable. Into the Wild paints these relationships so beautifully and with such delicate simplicity; they are well-written (some based on Christopher McCandless’ real meetings along his journey) and genuinely-acted, specifically by the occasionally fiery and down-to-earth Catherine Keener, the confident and comedic Vince Vaughn, who tones his typical farcical humor down to a relatable level, and the timeless Hal Holbrook, who plays Ron Franz, the paternal figure that meets Chris at the last leg of his travels prior to Alaska. Hal plays the role with such honesty and modesty, the audience hopes Chris says yes to his adoption request as they say goodbye. All of these characters, and acting performances, are so real and touching, aside from the unnecessary write-in- the young Joni Mitchell wannabe- who crushes on Chris with such lust (played by the always tortured and malnutritioned Kristin Stewart) and the voiceover narration of Jena Malone who plays Chris' highly observant, and ignored, younger sister (the combination of Malone's pretentious-sounding diction and the elevated, melodramatic writing stray from the realism and emotional connection the audience would have had naturally). Yet through the majority of the characters, the audience envelops the brief happiness in which Chris partakes with other human beings.
All of the aforementioned elements kept me engaged through the film’s entirety. I wanted to watch it again, and again, and again. I wanted to go on a million road trips (to add to my four thus far). I wanted to read the original novel and read about wild plants and animals- and travel to Alaska. I wanted to write a letter to Chris’ parents to see if they were okay (the moment Chris' father, Walt, played by William Hurt, falls to his knees in the middle of the street, brings me empathy beyond belief). I wanted to yell at Chris for his ignorance and shout, “Do not go to Alaska! You will not make it, you overidealistic, little snot!” I wanted to hug Chris for taking a chance and believing so stubbornly in nature’s purpose and beauty. I wanted to write a song for Eddie Vedder, commending him for capturing the music and lyrics to perfection. And mostly, I wanted to thank Sean Penn, and his D.P., for making such a beautiful, thought-provoking, and enlightening film. As Roger Ebert of the Chicago-Sun Times stated, "The movie is so good partly because it means so much, I think, to its writer-director.” Ultimately, the passion is what makes Into the Wild live and breathe and share a beautiful and compelling story of an honorable, and naive man. Yep, the pseudonym Supertramp, and Mr. Vedder’s lyrics pretty much sum it up:
Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
Gonna rise up
Burning black holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
Suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole
- Eddie Vedder, © 2007.
- Kara Hayes
