Written by Nick Da Costa | Sunday, November 30, 2008 | Comment on this article | + Share
‘Into the Wild‘ is arguably the most unfiltered expression of Sean Penn’s rebel tradition since his days as a younger actor. While his earlier efforts behind the camera were more insular, existential meditations as with ‘The Crossing Guard‘ and ‘The Pledge‘, his latest is a wildly expressive tribute to the unruly spirit of youth and its place in an increasingly conservative America. It is this passion that is the reason the film is so evocative and also so flawed.
On the surface Penn has struck gold with this stirring and inspirational tale. It’s quintessential Americana. Adapted from the book by Jon Krakauer that recounts the true story of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch), fresh out of college, qualification rich, a future littered with unlimited potential. And yet he gave everything away to strike out on a Kerouac dream of wide open highways all the way to the wilds of Alaska. Two years after beginning his journey he was found dead from starvation in the run down bus that became his home.
Utilising a loose, almost patchwork film narrative, Penn moves back and forth between scenes in Alaska, McCandless’s journey and flashbacks to his rather acrimonious home life. It’s both a recollection of the 70s aesthetic that defined cinematic rebellion and a potent technique for an examination of the themes of family, ecology, capitalism and the degradation of the American spirit.
There is an opportunity for a fascinating character study here with McCandless’s rejection of possessions not simply covering the material, but also those of identity as he cuts himself off emotionally and changes his name to Alexander Supertramp. It’s both a literary and psychological choice and connects with his dismissal of family; a judgement so severe and strange when you consider the love that he clearly has for his sister, a recurring character in didactic voiceover.
There’s also the lofty transfiguration of father, God and nature, as he escapes one, and finds the other, at least in some form. There’s a cruel irony at work in that while the landscape offers freedom, it too is a father, ready to educate and inspire while at the same time punishing just as cruelly as one made of flesh, as McCandless so tragically discovers.
And yet these are more observations than anything suggestive of McCandless as portrayed here. While he meets a variety of characters on his journey, from the hippy duo (Catherine Keener & Brian H. Dierker) that along with their Slab City encampment personifies the fading memory of some free America to the lonely retired soldier (brilliantly realised by Hal Holbrook) who attempts to impart some wisdom on the young drifter there’s no sense that he has developed as a character. Remaining resolute in his questing for Alaska to an almost obstinate level.
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