Into the Wild
Directed by Sean Penn
Grade: A-
Into the Wild, Sean Penn’s fourth feature film directorial effort, is an awe-inspiring adventure story that grips you from the start, lyrically retelling Christopher McCandless’s (Emile Hirsch) true and tragic journey through the western wilderness (based upon the book by Jon Krakauer) in what can only be described as a wholly organic piece of filmmaking.
Penn embraces his material lovingly, crafting together a film that is passionate overall and instinctive in its elements. It has a natural, wholesome feel; its style longing to tread in shallow documentary waters or, at least, take a quick swim in cinéma-vérité. While the film follows Penn’s adapted screenplay as a guide, Into the Wild is blessed with abundant magical moments, those happy accidents that occur when you simply let the camera roll and capture the actors interacting with others and the surrounding environment.
We share in Christopher’s self-made isolation – perhaps we’re even envious of him – as he abandons modern society as he knows it and uncovers breathtaking landscapes and uninhabited wilds. Emile Hirsch is wonderful adventuring through Christopher’s eyes, and the film seems to take pleasure in documenting Hirsch’s own voyage while keeping the focus of McCandless’s story in check. The cast and crew members of Into the Wild are all on this quest, and the film resembles a scrapbook of their travels, featuring vignettes of human encounters and random snippets of travelogue-esque footage too significant to be shared through plain postcards and photo albums.
There’s a particularly intriguing moment in Into the Wild, a shot that lasts no longer than one second, that is effective in turning the film on its head and dictates that its audience be more than stagnant viewers looking in from the outside.
The shot comes about forty minutes into the film with Christopher sitting on the side of the road, eating what he feels is the best apple he has ever tasted – a “super” apple. At the end of this scene comprised of a short series of jump cuts, Editor Jay Lash Cassidy splices in a final quick shot of Christopher leaning in toward the camera, beaming us with a wide-eyed, apple-mouthful grin – essentially breaking the fourth wall and engaging the audience directly. Again, the shot is merely punctuation on the scene. It’s a playful, improvised moment, and one that shows how filmmakers, particularly editors, can find such magic in unscripted footage.
But, out of all the many wonderful moments in this film, this one-second piece of spontaneity speaks volumes on the language of cinema and how fine and gray the line can be between the audience acting as voyeur and participant.
Then again, is it really spontaneity if an editor chooses to place unscripted footage in a sequence of shots? The original footage captures an unprompted moment when Emile Hirsch playfully mugs for the camera. But after the cameras have stopped rolling, what appears in the final edit of the film is a conscious and deliberate decision on the part of the filmmakers. Thus, the shot of Christopher playing to the camera is deliberate in its final form, even if it originated through improvisation. If the shot is deliberate, then what is the filmmaker trying to say by using it? As Christopher briefly breaks the fourth wall and glances directly at the camera, the audience is no longer simply watching the events unfold. Christopher is no longer alone in his trek – he acknowledges the presence of the camera and invites the audience to interact with him.
The practice of breaking the fourth wall is by no means new. Jim Garrison (Kevin Costner) addresses the audience directly in the last sentence of his closing arguments in Oliver Stone’s JFK (1991). His line, “It’s up to you” is delivered with a stare straight into the camera and suggests a call to action on the part of the viewer.
The fourth wall is also broken for comedic purpose in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986), as Ferris (Matthew Broderick) gives a quick tutorial to the audience on how to trick parents into letting us stay home from school through fake fevers, theatrical coughs and manufactured sweaty palms.
The moment in Into the Wild is innocent enough, but when thinking about the syntax and semantics of cinema, even seemingly meaningless shots can change the viewer’s perspective of a film. In this case, the filmmakers have set out to establish a sense of loneliness and seclusion in Christopher’s surroundings, above all in his Alaskan wilderness. And yet, Christopher’s acknowledgement of the camera in this one moment suggests that he is, in fact, not alone. It by no means takes away from what is a thoroughly compelling film and a series of heartfelt events leading to an unfortunate conclusion. However, I can’t help but wonder why the filmmakers chose to leave that shot, the only shot in the film that breaks the fourth wall, in the final cut - causing a good deal of confusion with film geeks like me.
Into the Wild has a run time of two hours and twenty-seven minutes, and I’m thankful for that. It takes its time and tells the story it wants to tell, rather than being compelled to rush in an effort to fit in a few more screenings at the local cineplex. This is one of those films where you’ll want to relax with your favorite drink, pop up the recliner, and settle in for the long haul. Simply an amazing piece of cinema.
As you can see, Cinema Goulash has started including wine suggestions into the reviews, alternating them with our regular food pairings every so often, depending on my mood and recent adventures with the grape (you’ll see the wine bottle icon instead of the crock pot when these wine suggestions occur.) Wine, to me, is just as important as a good meal. Into the Wild was enjoyed with The Lackey, a 2005 Shiraz from Kilkanoon Wines of South Australia. The shiraz is, by far, my favorite, and this one is of particular interest. It is smoky and peppery, but not too spicy. With a vanilla aroma, it is smooth and fruity, with hints of plum and blackberry. It reminds me a lot of a favorite 2000 Heritage Cuvee from Curtis Winery that my wife and I enjoyed when we visited the winery in 2001, although The Lackey is missing the hot finish of the cuvee – and that’s okay. We discovered this treat in a wonderful wine and cheese shop called Abbey Cellars in Lincoln, New Hampshire. The shop owners were as friendly as they come and the small, specialty shop atmosphere invited us to spend some quality time browsing about the labels. A find for any wine lover.
Abbey Cellars is located at 78 Main Street in Lincoln, NH. They can be reached at 603-745-9463 and can be found on the web at www.abbeycellarsnh.com.


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