All Is Lost by J.C. Chandor

The title of this film by J.C. Chandor, All Is Lost, is a state of mind that its main character, a solitary old man sailing in the Indian Ocean and played by Robert Redford, does not let himself enter until the utmost moment of loss. Building a story to fit precisely around that idea within the setting given, the filmmaker displays a level of craftsmanship - on his second feature - that leaves me feeling excited for what his career has in store. As carefully orchestrated as Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity and as riveting as the director's own first feature film, Margin Call, All Is Lost is an exercise in basic, concise, and utterly-focused filmmaking. It's a thrill to watch and a pleasure to contemplate.

In an interview discussing the movie, Redford said he was interested in the part because it seemed like it would be a purely cinematic experience. He explained that for him, that meant a very visual narrative, that it could almost be a silent film. As I consider that term, "cinematic," in the context of this movie I think of the strengths that film has over other media for artistic expression. First and foremost is the ability to grab and hold the attention of the audience by providing both sight and sound. And as an extension of that, it is a way to communicate through a sort of mind meld, without the need for an explicit description of what is happening. You just watch, think, and feel. Certainly there are oodles of wonderful films with plenty of witty or dramatic dialogue, narration, or other forms of written and verbal communication. And "cinematic" could also be interpreted many other legitimate ways, but as far as high impact, emotional, and visual storytelling goes, that old, handsome devil is right: All Is Lost is a purely cinematic experience.

Watching the trailer or merely looking at the movie poster tells you all you really need to know of the premise: a man sailing in deep, ocean waters is confronted with a situation that looks like its only headed from bad to worse. It's not too much of a spoiler to say that the burden of helpful resources at the disposal of Our Man (the character's name in the credits) gets lightened throughout the length of the film. Indeed, Chandor explains briefly in a commentary track that the loss (a key word, being part of the title) of each physical item or asset in the film may correspond with an equally distressing, but perhaps ultimately relieving emotional shedding.

The only verbal clue we're given of Our Man's origins is the contents of a letter, read at the introduction of the film but written much later. An excerpt goes, "I'm sorry... I know that means little at this point, but I am. I tried, I think you would all agree that I tried. To be true, to be strong, to be kind, to love, to be right. But I wasn't... All is lost here... except for soul and body... that is, what's left of them..." That certainly seems consistent with common notions of deathbed contemplations. It sounds like a man that realizes he could've done better (don't we all). An allegorical hint we're given comes near the beginning of the struggle as his high-tech navigation gear gets doused with sea water. We see him leafing through a copy of "Introduction to Celestial Navigation," presumably for the first time. Later on he pulls out an unused sextant. You would think if you were doing a major solo trip across an ocean that learning how to get your bearings the old fashioned way would be a priority. You might also think a man in his 70's would have developed a strong sense of spirituality (aka, celestial navigation) throughout life's ups and downs.

For me, the idea of embarking on a journey like this seems noble and brave, and so it's easy to like this guy. His grace under fire is impressive - but also not unrealistic. The serenity and focus with which he confronts a series of disastrous, life-threatening situations just points out that sometimes survival only comes by keeping your head in the here and now. He rarely takes the time to reflect on his predicament. On one hand, that trait is key to his survival. On the other, if we consider that he may have lived his whole life this way, that unreflective nature may be the reason behind what he writes. Perhaps there is a lesson that life has been trying to teach him that won't come any other way.

All Is Lost is another entry in a strain of films, like Gravity, Castaway, or The Truman Show, where learning comes only along with going to the edge of life and deciding to hold on. J.C. Chandor's ability to draw out that essence of the story is a result of a laser-focus on communicating that concept and only making decisions, both planned and spontaneous, that get right at the heart of his purpose. After watching some of the featurettes on the blu-ray you realize that although it's an indie film with a presumably small budget, the filmmaking team is efficient and exacting in the production process, and yet still able to allow the serendipitous, in-the-moment surprises become a part of the movie. I admire that adherence to craft while working in a medium that, by necessity, is collaborative and, I expect at times, desperate. Chandor's a director whose future work I look forward to with anticipation.

Other notes:

• It's a visually stunning film, despite being so simple. There are over 300 visual effects shots, only a couple of which are obvious, and in these it is only because logically you wouldn't expect them to actually put Robert Redford on a small sailboat in the middle of a raging storm. And there are quite a lot of shots you might be tempted to think are fake but are indeed completely real. He really did jump into that lifeboat.
• Alex Ebert, lead singer of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, does a fantastic job with the score. I'll toot my own horn and say that I suspected something in the main theme that very subtly smacked of Edward Sharpe and so I was smugly satisfied when I saw Ebert's name in the credits (I have a witness to confirm this - both my prediction and the smugness).
• Although some have understandably felt that Chandor's two features, Margin Call and All is Lost, are miles apart from each for being so different (I'm look at you Matt Zoller Seitz, I would say he has a penchant for showing people dealing with situations that are falling to pieces before them. That's a line I'm making from only two points, but still, the name of the next movies he's working on is A Most Violent Year.
• Robert Redford gives the performance of a lifetime and it really is too bad he wasn't nominated for an Oscar. Looking back at the field of competition for that award, I definitely think there was some room for him despite the range of talent that were represented.

The Call of the Wild & White Fang: The companion novels of Jack London

Photo credit: m.gross196 on Flickr

"Life itself was meat. Life lived on Life. There were the eaters and the eaten. The law was: EAT OR BE EATEN. He did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralize about it. He did not even think the law; he merely lived the law without thinking about it at all."
-White Fang

Thomas Nagel, an American philosopher I know very little about, wrote an essay called "What its like to be a bat" in 1974. The main point is that one can never truly know what it is like to be someone or something else. Should some power be able to transport the essence of yourself into the body of a bat, perhaps even with some of the instincts of a bat, so that you could then return and report back on the experience, you'll never have actually had the experience of being a bat. Because, by definition, being a bat is not knowing and understanding what it is to be anything else. You would only have accomplished knowing what it is like to be you in the body of a bat. And so truly experiencing what life is like in another's skin is impossible. Even so, Jack London does a helluva job describing the life of a dog in White Fang and The Call of the Wild

I'm really beginning to love Jack London. After first reading The Call of the Wild and now White Fang I am really drawn into his writing. Like Hemingway, London has a relatively bleak style, but the similarity is due more to the shared subject matter than the lack of narrative more characteristic of the former. Both writers spend a lot of time describing very basic, physical processes that suggest a natural state of being. In both of these books by London, the primary point of view is that of a wolf/dog or dog/wolf, respectively White Fang and Buck, and so while human events, actions, and words are described, the only understanding that is spelled out is that which the dog possesses. We must infer anything else that is happening - some is obvious and some unimportant and unmentioned.

They are essentially the same story told in reverse. Which is forward and which is reverse depends either on which you read first or which you prefer. One follows a dog with a bit of wolf in him and his journey from the cushy Santa Clara valley to the hard life as a sled dog in the Alaska wilderness to, finally, complete freedom as a wholly wild animal. The other follows a wolf with a bit of dog in him in the Alaska wild that learns to trust man, fear man, work for man, and eventually winds up in a cushy situation in the Santa Clara valley of California with man as his welcome master - the Lovemaster (London could never have known how ridiculous that name would sound to today's reader - you almost expect some funky music to start after you read it the first time - the luuuvmaster). Both stories completely justify every step in the life of a dog, from loving loyalty to savage brutality.

The beauty of this reversal is only complete after reading both books - which for all intents and purposes seem to me - a first time London reader - as perfect companion novels. Both have periods of intense suffering due to poor treatment; interaction with and learning to understand humans; poignant descriptions of the reality of the call to live in complete wild freedom; and an emotional climax that involves true xenophilic love between man and beast. This last bit is best portrayed in The Call of the Wild between Buck and Thornton, a member of a small group of back-country wildmen that knows enough to respect a remarkable animal when he sees him. Those passages are so moving and well-written, they are the only bit of prose or poetry that has ever made me consider actually getting a dog. Tears are welling up for you already, I'm sure.

Because each process of role reversal in this pair of books is so carefully crafted to convince the reader that the result is within the realm of natural balance, London is telling us that mortality is a state in which conflicting forces must and can be adhered to. Whether it be the freedom of the call, or the love of the domestic relationship, either can bring a state of peace. As someone that finds it easy to be convinced that either one of these ideals is superior, I find it comforting to come to this realization through London's writing - although that may just be an excuse I use to keep myself from feeling guilty about something.

The author may not have been attempting to make universal statements of the existence of man and the mortal condition. But to bring up Hemingway again, that great author said something regarding symbolism in writing that I might apply to London's writing here "No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in. ... But if I made them good and true enough they would mean many things." So it is with these two great dogs. London, a man with an adventurous life of his own that took place in some of the same settings these books take us, used what he knew to tell true stories about life. Anything more we read into it may be just a way for English majors to get top grades or make tenure.

However, if we do question his actual intent towards application in our lives, we only need to review one of the many passages that point directly back to ourselves. The following is a great one of these:

"There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad in a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight." -The Call of the Wild

Once we forget we're the bat - then we can know what it is like. But then it is forgotten the moment we try to think about it and pin our finger on it. My final takeaway? I'm only really alive when I'm eating - so pass the meat.

Wayne's World

Poster credited to worth1000.com

The elements that make a good comedy are so elusive. All of the right tools can seem to be there - great cast, writing, & directing - but more often than not it comes off flat. Of those that are enjoyable, many only have topical humor that makes sense when framed historically. Few seem to stand the test of time, and even then it is hard to divide that from the individual experience. Sense of humor is so relative. Because of this I think any review of a comedy should be taken with a grain of salt. The same holds for my review of Wayne's World. I realized I'd never seen this movie beyond youtube videos of the famous "Bohemian Rhapsody" scene. Netflix just added it to their Watch Instantly catalog and so I queued it up and gave it a go. It was a delightfully weightless bit of fun.

The main reason why I wanted to record my thoughts on it is because of the way it dealt with the story. Normally a Hollywood comedy is so burdened by over-emphasized plot points. It becomes heavy and you just sit there counting the seconds waiting for the inevitable to happen. For that reason I find that the best pure-comedies forego the story line and just let you lay out and soak in the atmosphere and personality of the movie. What makes a good comedy is that it is full of characters that you want to spend time with in a world you want to spend time in.

With Wayne's World I was a little worried at the start as Wayne & Garth (played by Mike Myers and Dana Carvey) were getting set up to fail as they enter what is obviously a raw deal in going corporate with their public-access TV show - the main struggle of the movie - but it never spent enough time on that to drag the movie down. It thankfully glossed over all the main plot setup, coasted through the second-act escalation, and jetted right on to a joyful finale. This left more time for all the real fun like constantly breaking the fourth wall ("Hey, only Garth and I can talk to the camera!"), making fun of contemporary Hollywood (writing out "Gratuitous Sex Scene" instead of showing it), and plenty of pointlessly fun exclamations (Party on! Excellent! Schwing!). I was in a constant state of feeling pleasantly surprised as I enjoyed the little quirks and random jokes that often don't get into movies today because they are trying to follow a formula (a formula established in part by the success of the 90's SNL generation movies like this one).

While it's definitely teenage and immature, it is relatively low on the low-brow humor that seems necessary in the current comedic landscape. Some of the Judd Apatow films are thoughtfully funny, but that's in spite of the intense language and bathroom humor rather than because of it (I'm sure there are plenty who disagree - but good comedy and drama shouldn't use the crutch of ridiculously obscene language). I mean don't get me wrong, every part of the human anatomy gets its fair shake (har har). But While Wayne's World certainly wouldn't be labeled as clean, it doesn't rely solely on dirty jokes (it's PG-13 - check out a Parent's Guide for more info).

Instead, what may turn some of the younger viewers away, if seeing this for the first time, is that many of its references are a generation or two old. The Laverne & Shirley sequence or the commercial spoofs just don't make sense if you haven't seen the source material - although with those carefree, goofy smiles on Wayne's and Garth's faces, you'll laugh anyway. But I think the fact that Wayne's World helped establish this type of comedy might just cross generational boundaries.

The one thing I would've wished for more of was the actual public access TV show. I know all the old SNL skits are online whenever you like, and the pull for many of these transfers to the big screen is the ability to find who these people are, but the real charm of this movie is just watching Wayne and Garth be themselves, little to no plot line required. Rather than seeing what happens to them, Wayne's World is just an excuse to hang out with them a little longer.