“Wild”

“Wild” is full of bromides like “Find your best self and hold on to it” and “Put yourself in Beauty’s way-sunrise & sunset every day”. Yet, Jean-Marc Vallee,the Canadian director of “The Dallas Buyers Club, makes us care about Sheryl Strayed, whose memoir makes the big screen.

Reese Witherspoon is grand and brings a depth of character that is a pleasant surprise. Her sins, her fortitude, her bruises, her losses and her neglects are mostly in flashbacks as she treks 1,100 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. She registers her name on the trail’s log, often quoting Adrienne Rich, Flannery O’Conner, Emily Dickinson and many of my favs here and in her journal. Sheryl is a seeker,a feminist,who changes Joni Mitchell’s lyrics from, “Will you take me as I am?” To “will I take me as I am?” Ultimately, she needs to forgive herself and as she states: “walk myself back to the woman my mother thought I was”.

And her mother, the incredible Laura Dern is worthy of an Oscar,too. In a few short scenes, we see her forty-five years from dancing with her daughter, taking knuckle punches,breathing in scents & sense to cancer and cornea donation. Bobbi Gray is lauded as noble yet her quest is to make her daughter more sophisticated than she is seems silly in its self-effacement.  Yet,I was deeply touched when Sheryl swallowed a mouthful of her mother’s ashes.

There are lots of grunts & groans from beginning to end. We learn a little about Monster bag packing and tricks like burning book pages read to lighten the load. Pruning an insane backpack plays second to pruning a history of promiscuity & heroin abuse ,and this unloading plays  as an interesting metaphor. Licking the condensation from a tent wall and meeting unseemly hikers are balanced with the kindness of strangers and the humor of the “Hobo Times” reporter.

I was disappointed in the cinematography of Yves Belanger. I was expecting more magnificent scenery of a postcard variety. The brooks were nice,but not jaw dropping. The forest take with the “Red River Valley” song missed vistas where they were needed for maximum emotional effect.I cared about Sheryl, but grieved for Bobbi and wanted her to channel that mother love ,unconditional and true, to the next generation without proxy.

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Christine Muller

Carrying a torch for film is what I have done for over forty years, thus the flambleau flamed when I was urged to start a blog. Saving suitcase loads of ticket stubs was no longer relevent so I had to change the game. Film has been important for me in the classroom and a respite for me outside of it. No other art form seems to edge the frayed seams of life as neatly as when a film is done well. I am happy that over one-hundred countries have citizens viewing my thoughts on Word Press, and a few leaving their own with me. Over eight- hundred comments to date, and over two-hundred films reviewed.

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