The Last Winter
Directed by Larry Fessenden
Into The Wild
Directed by Sean Penn
While it’s easy to view the recent spate of save-the-environment documentaries as America’s newest take on the horror genre, I doubt that anyone thinks Al Gore has supplanted Freddy Krueger. The possibility of an incoming apocalypse at the hands of natural disasters is a fearsome conceit, but ponderous environmental discourse leaves little room for formidable scares of the “boo!” variety. However, somebody gets the potential: Similar to the way that the original Godzilla is actually a rumination on the ills of nuclear experimentation, Larry Fessenden’s The Last Winter uses conventional chills to create a surging diatribe on humanity’s willingness to let nature fall into disarray.
Fessenden’s drama takes place at an Alaskan oil reserve, amid stark white landscapes and whispering drafts of frozen air. The characters, of which there are under a dozen, usually speak in hushed tones about the tribulations of their research, although occasionally voices rise to indicate alarm about their increasingly claustrophobic situation (the press notes’ reference to the setting of John Carpenter’s The Thing are apt). The disgruntled team leader (Ron Perlman) frequently bitches about the bureaucracy of their management, but he shrugs off the insistence of a colleague that the environment’s increasing warmth has endangered their research. “Don’t start that global warming shit,” he gripes, giving us the movie’s version of the self-damning declaration, “I’ll be right back,” which horror films often use to foreshadow incoming slaughter.
The unique twist of Winter arrives with the lethal manifestation of that global warming shit but, rather than appearing as melting ice caps and insurmountable tempests akin to The Day After Tomorrow, trouble takes root as a freaky ghost-like presence that rises from the muck of our mistreated planet. Fessenden’s monsters are poorly represented with lo-res CGI, but that’s essentially part of the point. The beasts of global warming don’t have to look real since, in reality, we still have trouble accepting their existence.
There’s always more that can be done to help the environment, but there’s also a limit: Hug a tree too tightly and you might fall in.
Such a fate befell 24-year-old Christopher McCandless in late 1992, when, after dedicating himself to solitude in the Alaskan wilderness as a means of escaping his bourgeois upbringing, he died, alone and hungry. Into the Wild, Jon Krakauer’s fascinating 1996 bestseller, documents McCandless’ cross-country journeys during the last two years of his life. An illuminating journalistic and literary accomplishment, Krakauer’s book primarily culls from the ill-fated traveler’s private journals.
Now, Sean Penn has brought the chronicle to the big screen in the true sense of the phrase: The story, told in an immersive non-linear fashion that jumps from McCandless’ last days to the moments that leading up to his self-expulsion from society, captures the beauty of nature and its merciless danger with a gorgeous palette and panoramic compositions. The earlier scenes show how the character’s father (William Hurt) expects too much systematic work ethic from his son, whom he pressures to take the standard college-educated route. Unwilling to conform, McCandless veers to the opposite extreme—a brazen act of rebellion that liberates him before catalyzing his downfall.
Darkly observant, the plot makes great art. It’s a classic narrative of a man devoured by his desire to escape the industrial discontents of monetary culture. Penn directs the tragic epic with the same intensity he exudes as an actor. His star, the versatile young thespian Emile Hirsch, performs the role of a maddened Gen-X hippie with a combination of existential anguish and comic poignancy. The journey is an aesthetic one, and the photography (by Eric Gautier) reflects McCandless’ mental trajectory: The terrains change from lush greens and browns to the blank white of winter as he grows disillusioned by loneliness. The Alaskan setting isn’t the only reason why Into the Wild should be considered alongside Fessenden’s horror flick. Both stories illuminate the travails of a world far stronger and insurmountable than its notoriously ambivalent inhabitants care to admit.
Directed by Larry Fessenden
Into The Wild
Directed by Sean Penn
While it’s easy to view the recent spate of save-the-environment documentaries as America’s newest take on the horror genre, I doubt that anyone thinks Al Gore has supplanted Freddy Krueger. The possibility of an incoming apocalypse at the hands of natural disasters is a fearsome conceit, but ponderous environmental discourse leaves little room for formidable scares of the “boo!” variety. However, somebody gets the potential: Similar to the way that the original Godzilla is actually a rumination on the ills of nuclear experimentation, Larry Fessenden’s The Last Winter uses conventional chills to create a surging diatribe on humanity’s willingness to let nature fall into disarray.
Fessenden’s drama takes place at an Alaskan oil reserve, amid stark white landscapes and whispering drafts of frozen air. The characters, of which there are under a dozen, usually speak in hushed tones about the tribulations of their research, although occasionally voices rise to indicate alarm about their increasingly claustrophobic situation (the press notes’ reference to the setting of John Carpenter’s The Thing are apt). The disgruntled team leader (Ron Perlman) frequently bitches about the bureaucracy of their management, but he shrugs off the insistence of a colleague that the environment’s increasing warmth has endangered their research. “Don’t start that global warming shit,” he gripes, giving us the movie’s version of the self-damning declaration, “I’ll be right back,” which horror films often use to foreshadow incoming slaughter.
The unique twist of Winter arrives with the lethal manifestation of that global warming shit but, rather than appearing as melting ice caps and insurmountable tempests akin to The Day After Tomorrow, trouble takes root as a freaky ghost-like presence that rises from the muck of our mistreated planet. Fessenden’s monsters are poorly represented with lo-res CGI, but that’s essentially part of the point. The beasts of global warming don’t have to look real since, in reality, we still have trouble accepting their existence.
There’s always more that can be done to help the environment, but there’s also a limit: Hug a tree too tightly and you might fall in.
Such a fate befell 24-year-old Christopher McCandless in late 1992, when, after dedicating himself to solitude in the Alaskan wilderness as a means of escaping his bourgeois upbringing, he died, alone and hungry. Into the Wild, Jon Krakauer’s fascinating 1996 bestseller, documents McCandless’ cross-country journeys during the last two years of his life. An illuminating journalistic and literary accomplishment, Krakauer’s book primarily culls from the ill-fated traveler’s private journals.
Now, Sean Penn has brought the chronicle to the big screen in the true sense of the phrase: The story, told in an immersive non-linear fashion that jumps from McCandless’ last days to the moments that leading up to his self-expulsion from society, captures the beauty of nature and its merciless danger with a gorgeous palette and panoramic compositions. The earlier scenes show how the character’s father (William Hurt) expects too much systematic work ethic from his son, whom he pressures to take the standard college-educated route. Unwilling to conform, McCandless veers to the opposite extreme—a brazen act of rebellion that liberates him before catalyzing his downfall.
Darkly observant, the plot makes great art. It’s a classic narrative of a man devoured by his desire to escape the industrial discontents of monetary culture. Penn directs the tragic epic with the same intensity he exudes as an actor. His star, the versatile young thespian Emile Hirsch, performs the role of a maddened Gen-X hippie with a combination of existential anguish and comic poignancy. The journey is an aesthetic one, and the photography (by Eric Gautier) reflects McCandless’ mental trajectory: The terrains change from lush greens and browns to the blank white of winter as he grows disillusioned by loneliness. The Alaskan setting isn’t the only reason why Into the Wild should be considered alongside Fessenden’s horror flick. Both stories illuminate the travails of a world far stronger and insurmountable than its notoriously ambivalent inhabitants care to admit.
