Film

Not so much a screen treatment of Jon Krakauer’s best-selling book as an attempt to be cinematically true to the spirit of its protagonist, Penn’s film version of Into the Wild tells a story that justifies any amount of meandering or cutting loose. (Journal entries are spelled out as onscreen credits; Eddie Vedder’s singing drives much of the action.) But none of Penn’s back-to-nature aesthetic precludes developing a sense of disbelief at the tenacity—or is it idiocy?—of Christopher McCandless (Hirsch). In 1990, McCandless graduated from Emory University and hit the road with an ill-defined, literary-influenced desire to divest himself of civilization.

Jagging in and out of human settlements, McCandless is the movie’s nominal hero, but his motives are mainly spelled out through his sister’s Days of Heaven narration. Even a kindred spirit (Vaughn)—arrested in a big Grapes of Wrath moment—advises McCandless not to go north to Alaska, where the would-be Thoreau nevertheless died of starvation at 24. A road movie paced for hikers, Wild has an agreeably baggy feel—it’s easy to get lost in the film, to lose track of time. Penn also has the benefit of a flavorful supporting cast: Hippie-wise folk Keener and Dierker all but walk off with their scenes, and Holbrook infuses a late dose of drama—albeit in the most moralistic moments—as a born-again father figure whom McCandless teaches to let go. Krakauer’s journalistic reconstruction took a tougher stance, but Penn’s version ambitiously takes its own road—and adds something new.