REVIEW: Into the Wild, the Movie

If you’re like me, you read Jon Krakauer’s book Into the Wild and loved it, feeling the wanderlust and thirst for adventure that were so precious to Christopher McCandless, aka Alexander Supertramp. Though the backlash after McCandless’ death in 1992 was harsh at best, Krakauer set about to describe the tramp’s journey in its entirety at a time when McCandless was known as that dumb kid that died in Alaska. It’s clear in the book that Krakauer identified with McCandless in many ways, and as a result the traveler’s story became more complex, magical and human at the same time.

When I heard that Sean Penn was directing a film version of the book, I found myself a little worried. How would they represent the more debated parts of McCandless’ journey? Whose point of view would the story be told from? How would the film depict the pain of the McCandless family, and how would it go about showing parts of Chris’ life that he spent alone? But then I read an article in Outside magazine, and I learned that the McCandless family were involved in the film. Actually, the whole process of how the movie actually came to be was really interesting, and after reading the article I found myself looking forward to the movie.

I wasn’t disappointed. I went to the theater with Ted and his brother, Chris, and I think it’s safe to say that all three of us thought about it for days afterward. Not that Into the Wild is a thinking movie; it’s more of a feeling movie, in the wildest sense. It’s the kind of film that grips you for days. There’s no “moral of the story” or any broader lesson to be learned, which would have cheapened Chris McCandless’ life and death.

For me, this movie brought my own feelings about societal life to the surface. Though Ted and I have often talked about buying a piece of land near the hills or closer to the coast, our businesses (okay, mostly his business) have kept us close to town, where we can easily access FedEx and our bank. Both of us work in media, and when you work in the creative field you’re always rushing to ship something or pulling all-nighters for one project or another. Of course, there are down times, too. But the busy times are when we most appreciate living as close to modern conveniences as we do.

Still, the call of living less conventionally continue to pull on our heartstrings. I’m not talking about living in a commune or anything, just a simple life surrounded by trees where we can have a garden and some chickens. Ted grew up in Weaverville, California with this exact kind of life; his childhood stories are about playing with the turkeys or feeding the buck-happy goat on his grandparents’ property, which was (literally) just down the hill from where he and his family lived. Ted and his siblings made gnome houses in the woods, and they had a grandmother who was so skilled with a pistol that she could shoot a snake in the head from several paces away, which is totally awesome.

Conversely, I grew up in a suburban area of Southern California, which was no bad life by any means. Still, I always dreamed of living on a farm, which was probably due to my family’s stories about their farm life back in Nebraska. My mom would tell me about how she and my aunt helped my grandpa build houses, and their pay was gas for the family boat so they could water ski in the evenings. My uncle also grew up on a farm, and in fact his two older sisters still run it. My grandpa would talk about how he and this kid, Butch Kavella (who, according to my grandpa, was the one with the devious ideas), got into all kinds of trouble, like that time they accidentally killed a king snake, and rather than let it go to waste, they decided to put it to good use: They climbed a tree and waited for the neighborhood Girl Scouts to walk by on the pavement below, and when the girl they fancied trotted by, they threw the snake around her shoulders. The girl fainted and the boys got a serious whupping, but to hear my grandfather tell the story, it was obvious that it’d been worth it. (Of course, the truth behind my grandpa’s tales is debatable; my mom always wondered if, somewhere, Butch Kavella was telling stories to his family in which my grandpa was the devious instigator. We’ll never know, but the stories are entertaining nonetheless.)

Maybe it was my family’s stories that made me yearn for a wilder life, or maybe it was the sterility of my suburban surroundings. Either way, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t wish I had chickens and a garden and horses. My mom would always tell me how much work it would be, though it was precisely the work that I craved.

I suppose that with our five adopted animals - three large dogs and two ornery cats - that we’ve created a version of the life we desire, a kind of city farm. I have a garden of fresh herbs that I use all the time, though the plants are in pots. We do the best we can with what we have to work with, but still it’s not quite enough to satisfy this part of me. My dream is for a modest piece of land in Sonoma County where we can have chickens and fresh eggs, where I can dry our sheets and towels outside in the sun, where we can have a large compost heap and the garden in which to use it. Though these desires aren’t exactly like the wanderlust depicted in Into the Wild, the movie (and the book) have reminded me of my rural desires.

I highly recommend you go see this movie. Even if you’re completely happy to live in an urban environment like Manhattan or Chicago, the movie will touch you. If nothing else, Vince Vaughn’s version of Wayne Westerberg, my favorite person in the story, is perfectly charming, albeit a little rough around the edges. Actually, all of the actors are really, really good. Catherine Keener was excellent, and Emile Hirsch (who played Chris McCandless) was fantastic. He has a scene where he talks to an apple, which is one of my favorite scenes in the movie.

While Into the Wild isn’t really about sustainability, I think the story brings up feelings we all share, the ones that make us want to respect our rivers by using cleaning products without pthalates and buy organic produce so pesticides don’t go into the groundwater and our bodies. Chris McCandless may have been a bit strange by our standards, but I think he was in touch with the feelings that drive us to do what we do. I just wish he was still alive to talk about it.

Also: the soundtrack to this movie, scored by Eddie Vedder, is fantastic. As a child of the nineties myself (and yes, I did have a flannel shirt or two, thank you), I thought that he was the perfect candidate to write the music for a movie about a twenty-something traveler in the early nineties with his own fair share of angst. I bought the soundtrack today and I’ve been listening to it nonstop, so I can safely say that I recommend the soundtrack just as much as I do the movie. The music isn’t at all grunge, though it definitely captures that era. It tells the story of Chris McCandless just as well as the actual story does. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that I had a HUGE crush on the Pearl Jam front man in the nineties, as many of us did back then.

Here are some more links about this movie:

The official movie site. Watch the trailer. The movie’s IMDB page. The Outside magazine article about the film. Buy the book on Amazon. Listen to the soundtrack on iTunes. Read the characteristically kiss-ass Peter Travers review on Rolling Stone. See pictures of Eddie Vedder looking hot. What?