Miscellaneous
The climb
If you’ve read journalist Jon Krakauer’s bestselling Into Thin Air, or watched the middling 1997 film adaptation of the same, or know anything at all of the broad strokes of the story, you won’treally find much that is surprising in the new Everest—at least not as far as the plot is concerned. The new film, helmed by Icelandic director Baltasar Kormákur, tells the tale of the very same ill-fated 1996 Everest expedition that Krakauer had been part of and written about, the one in which a deadly storm had claimed the lives of eight of his fellow climbers on their descent from the peak. But while Into Thin Air boasted a distinct, albeit quite controversial, point-of-view, Everest—relying as it does on a mishmash of first-hand accounts, books, reports and other records of the incident—is far more reluctant to take anything resembling a stance.Preena Shrestha
If you’ve read journalist Jon Krakauer’s bestselling Into Thin Air, or watched the middling 1997 film adaptation of the same, or know anything at all of the broad strokes of the story, you won’treally find much that is surprising in the new Everest—at least not as far as the plot is concerned. The new film, helmed by Icelandic director Baltasar Kormákur, tells the tale of the very same ill-fated 1996 Everest expedition that Krakauer had been part of and written about, the one in which a deadly storm had claimed the lives of eight of his fellow climbers on their descent from the peak. But while Into Thin Air boasted a distinct, albeit quite controversial, point-of-view, Everest—relying as it does on a mishmash of first-hand accounts, books, reports and other records of the incident—is far more reluctant to take anything resembling a stance.
Don’t get me wrong, the film is absolutely stunning to look at and Kormákur (Contraband, 2 Guns) and his technical team do a great job of depicting the immense physical strain involved in such harrowing, high-altitude adventures—all bolstered by the efforts of many capable actors. However, although viscerally affective enough to induce actual chills at some points, Everest falters when it comes to the human drama;
it lacks the intimacy of a personal perspective as well as an interest in exploring the psychological motivations underlying the act of climbing, so that when bad things happen to our characters on screen, we can’t help but wish we cared about them just that little bit more.The story mostly focuses on kindly New Zealander Rob Hall (Jason Clarke), something of a pioneer in the area of commercial climbing; we’re told that when it started in 1992, his company, Adventure Consultants, had been the first to offer non-professionals guided tours to the top of Everest—over the next four years, there had been many successful summits, and zero fatalities. That success, however, had prompted imitators since, numerous companies and their clients who could now be found packed into base camp, all competing—often dangerously—to scale Everest within the same small “weather window” every year. Hall’s batch of 1996 includes, among others, Beck Weathers (Josh Brolin), a doctor from Texas; mailman Doug Hansen (John Hawkes), also from the US, who had previously attempted and failed the climb; Japanese national Yasuko Namba (Naoko Mori), the only female in the group and whohas already conquered the othersix highest mountains in the world; and, of course, Krakauer (Michael Kelly), who is writing a story for a magazine. The group is about todouble in size with Hall deciding to team up with rival company owner Scott Fischer (Jake Gyllenhaal) and his associate Anatoli Boukreev (Ingvar Sigurðsson)—base camp is teeming with more climbers than ever and Hall believes collaborating with Scott will up their collective chances of leaving the other teams behind and getting to the peak.
The first half is largely preoccupied with readying for the grand ascent, as Hall guides his wards through the acclimatisation process, all while doling out fun facts about the Death Zone above 8,000 metres, a place where humans are just not meant to function, where our bodies will be “literally dying” every passing second. Expectedly grueling though it is, most of the group manage to make it to the top, culminating in a moment of heady celebration, but triumph is short-lived—asdifficult as going up might’ve been, we know it’s the coming down that’s going to prove a bigger issue.
Everest has roped in an impressive ensemble cast that also includes Keira Knightley, Sam Worthington and Emily Watson in bit roles. But because there are just so many
characters and limited screen time to be divvied up between them, they’re very thinly sketched—we learn little about each, or indeed the relationships between them, over the course of the film. Conversations are basic, often laced with clichés, and the
sentimentality—barring one final phone call—feels perfunctory. Everest fails to offer insight into the psyche of these climbers: Why do they choose to travel across the world, leaving behind families and comfortable lives, putting everything at stake, to do this? What promptsthem to to torture themselves so? Truly convincing answers to these questions are just not forthcoming.
There is also a marked effort at neutrality; the screenplay by William Nicholson and Simon Beaufoy touches on the dangers of the “bumper-to-bumper traffic” on the mountain, wrought by the touristification of an activity once reserved for the most serious of professionals, but it refuses to place the blame anywhere specific—something Krakauer had been less hesitant about. By the end, human conceit and folly have been consistently played down and the wrath of nature deemed the only culprit. While there’s certainly no need to have clearly aligned Heroes or Villains, this sort of cautiousness renders the film’s impact somewhat scant. Everest also noticeably neglects to acknowledge the contribution of the Sherpa guides who
comprise the backbone of suchenterprises, but who are hardly shown or discussed here.While it’s clear that character development and emotional nuance take a backseat to spectacle as far as Kormákur’s priorities go, you have to admit, he’s pretty darn good at it. Along with cinematographer Salvatore Totino, the director serves up some truly breathtaking imagery—Everest was filmed partly in Nepal and the Italian Alps—the most effective of which are scenes that contrast the puny human silhouettes against the sheer enormity of their gleaming, mighty, mountain nemesis. Though I can’t really say the 3D adds much to the experience, the overall intensity of these visuals pull you in and plonk you right on the slopes: you can feel that icy wind whipping your face, the struggle to simply put one foot in front of the other, and most keenly, that perilous lack of oxygen. It’s often unbearably stressful to watch these people battle such a brutal, treacherous environment, especially given what we know of their eventual fates. Dario Marianelli’s restrained score works well to underline the sense of inevitability that runs through the film.
Ultimately, Everest is a rather straightforward portrayal of a real-life tragedy—and perhaps there is something to be admired in the way it refrains from Hollywoodifying things. But while that can be refreshing (although there are a few stumbles into cheesy mawkishness), considering the potential for drama in the premise—and the possibilities technology offers these days—one can’t be blamed for wanting something fuller, more in-depth, more than the matter-of-fact presentation we see here. Still, though it might not move you the way you’d like, the film does succeed in engaging us in the actual rigours of climbing, and is worth watching if only for that. Just remember to get some hot coffee on your way in. You’ll need it.