Wild, 2014.
Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée.
Starring Reese Witherspoon, Laura Dern, Gaby Hoffman and Kevin Rankin.
SYNOPSIS:
A chronicle of one woman’s 1,100-mile solo hike undertaken as a way to recover from a recent catastrophe.
Few mainstream American films play around with memory as well as Wild. Jean-Marc Vallee’s adaptation of Cheryl Strayed’s memoir, about her time spent trekking America’s Pacific Crest Trail as a way of expunging herself of myriad personal problems, is strongly reminiscent of the feminist travelogue Tracks from last year, only Wild is much more accomplished. It feels like the journey in Vallee’s film, for one, has purpose beyond acting as a pretty brochure for tourists.
Wild has its gorgeous environs, but it’s more honest and uglier. Not just because of the roughness of the handheld camerawork, but because Vallee gets as close as he can to exposing us to uncomfortable truth. Wild depicts man’s journey through the world’s harsher climes as a humbling experience. Strayed (played by Reese Witherspoon from school age to adulthood with quiet conviction) learns to live on the trail through forcing herself to experience it, canyons, rattlesnakes, harsh snows and all.
The religious undertones are obvious – Cheryl’s self-flagellation comes in the form of forcing her unprepared mind and body into an endurance test, with redemption and rebirth the reward. Wild feels like a survival movie, even though Cheryl is never in imminent physical danger. Instead, this is a make-or-break bid by our protagonist to rediscover what’s worthy about living. If Cheryl doesn’t learn to see the point of it all again, over the 1,000 miles from the Mojave Desert to the Oregon-Washington border, we worry what her next step might be.
Witherspoon is natural throughout as the headstrong Strayed, someone who ended up at her lowest ebb after a lifetime’s steady build-up of emotional trauma. Though Witherspoon lacks the range and ingenuity of a Michelle Williams, this is still her strongest dramatic performance to date. Watching Cheryl warm back to life as the country changes around her is a quietly moving sight, and Witherspoon never oversells it or plays for plaudits.
Vallee, who essentially gave us a standout pair of performances and an average film in last year’s Dallas Buyer’s Club, has returned just a year later with less fanfare on another true-to-life story. Wild is better than Dallas Buyer’s Club, more confident and more willing to take risks, also making it less awards-friendly. There’s no logic in that, but frankly, who cares? Vallee’s eighth film has been marvellously put together.
It’s excitingly experiential, the mingling of past memories and the present reality done with the utmost fluidity. Shots of Cheryl’s more troubling memories are inserted almost subliminally, while there’s an intermittent internal monologue from our protagonist, every word a representation of Cheryl’s changing mindset. As her frustration mounts and spills over, a title card reads “Day fucking 36”. Used in an effectively haunting manner, songs from prominent moments in Cheryl’s life echo across the film.
Flashbacks are woven into the fabric of the film rather than inserted as awkward chunks: we jump from Cheryl and her husband celebrating their divorce by getting matching tattoos, to Cheryl’s tumultuous childhood, back to her self-destructive adult life abusing drugs and having flings with strangers. Simon and Garfunkel’s El Condor Pasa plays in whispers as Cheryl during her hike tries to suppress memories of happier times, but it comes roaring back as our hero succumbs to exhaustion.
Wild, though, admirably doesn’t focus on Strayed’s suffering. Her personal evolution from retreated caginess to joviality through the kindness of fellow backpackers might elicit a cheer. The presence of a sunshine-and-rainbows Laura Dern in flashback as Cheryl’s mother doesn’t hurt either – Dern’s Bobbi is both a ghost haunting Cheryl’s memories and a spirit guide urging her on. This is ultimately just a hopeful, uncynical film. It stumbles into mawkishness right at the very end, but most viewers who’ve gone along for all of this physically and emotionally aching slog shouldn’t even care that Vallee closes on an uplifting note.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Brogan Morris – Lover of film, writer of words, pretentious beyond belief. Thinks Scorsese and Kubrick are the kings of cinema, but PT Anderson and David Fincher are the young princes. Follow Brogan on Twitter if you can take shameless self-promotion.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&list=PL18yMRIfoszFJHnpNzqHh6gswQ0Srpi5E&v=qqtW2LRPtQY
