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It was in the words of Harrod & Funck’s “Walk into the Wild” that I first heard the story of Christopher McCandless. And I have to admit that I enjoyed the story a whole lot more when it was just a beautifully haunting folk song about the “greatest ever misadventure.”
Sean Penn’s Into the Wild offers a finely detailed—if somewhat drawn-out and over-dramatic—character study of real-life rich kid turned adventurer McCandless (Emile Hirsch). After graduating from Emerson University in 1990, Chris decided to forget about law school, give away his life savings, and disappear from society. Without saying good-bye to his parents (Marcia Gay Harden and William Hurt) or his little sister (Jena Malone), he left on a cross-country adventure that eventually, two years later, found him living in an abandoned bus in Alaska and living off the land.
Chris is definitely a solid, well-developed character. But character studies can pose a serious problem if you just don’t like the character you’re studying. I found it nearly impossible to like McCandless. He seemed like just another spoiled rich kid, rebelliously turning his back on the parents who gave him everything he ever wanted. Sure, he had a troubled childhood. His parents fought, and they lied to their kids. But if someone out there had a perfect childhood, complete with perfect parents, I’d like to hear about it. We all have our problems. And yes, we Gen-Xers became a little disillusioned. But while most of us were defiantly clunking around in combat boots and piercing things that weren’t meant to be pierced, McCandless snubbed his family, burned his parents’ cash, and took off without as much as a phone call to let his beloved little sister know he was okay. No matter how often throughout his journey McCandless saw how heartbroken parents become when they’re separated from their children, he selfishly continued on to Alaska without thinking—or caring—about the pain he caused his family. And that made it hard for me to care the slightest bit about him.
When one finds a character that infuriating, it’s difficult to really enjoy a movie. It’s unfortunate, in the case of Into the Wild—because it’s a truly beautiful movie, filled with grand, sweeping shots of the Great American Wilderness, set to a haunting soundtrack by one of the godfathers of Gen-X angst, Eddie Vedder. The supporting cast, too, is extraordinary—especially Hal Holbrook, who gives a touching performance as the tough but lonely Ron Franz. It’s too bad that all that beauty—and, eventually, tragedy—was overshadowed by such an ugly character, but it was. Since it’s all about Chris, it makes Into the Wild a beautiful but excruciating film that feels like it’s even longer than its two hours and forty minutes.
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