If you thought the only thing holding Wild’s hiking-as-journey-of-self-discovery metaphor back was a
total lack of broad sitcom shenanigans, have I got a movie for you. Ken Kwapis,
veteran director of TV (The Office)
and ensemble comedy (He’s Just Not That
Into You) has adapted A Walk in the
Woods, Bill Bryson’s book about hiking the Appalachian Trail, into treacly
sentiment and exhausted lightness. It starts with a tired old writer (Robert
Redford) deciding he’d like to go for a long hike. His wife (Emma Thompson)
pleads with him to not go alone, and so, after exhausting all options, he ends
up reunited with an old friend (Nick Nolte) who wants to come along. The rest
of the movie involves the guys meandering their way from Georgia up to New
England, seeing beautiful sights and getting involved in the mildest of comedy
antics along their episodic way.
Bryson’s an often amusing humorist on the page, but none of
his personality survives a transplant into the blandest feel-good big screen tripe.
It’s supposed to be life affirming watching the guys bond and overcome
obstacles. In practice, the screenplay by Rick Kerb and Bill Holderman is
strained silliness mixed with even more strained seriousness. It makes for a
pushy blend that doesn’t even try too hard to be manipulative. The characters
have little of interest to say, and appear to have no investment in their own
actions. We have a few limp scenes in which Redford looks bored at an interview
and a funeral and we’re supposed to interpret that as a sign he wants to do
something fun and exciting before he gets even older. Later, Nolte comes
stumbling into the picture, red-faced and wheezing, obviously out of shape and
unprepared for a long hike. We’re supposed to be ready to admire his tenacity
and persistence. The easy setup gives way to thin development. You know pretty
much where it’s headed at every step.
Kwapis and crew trust that a somnambulant outdoorsy Redford and a
blustering stumbling Nolte will hold the audience’s interest. The whole thing coasts on
goodwill generated by memories of better performances in more interesting
projects. The leads are responsible for some magnetic and riveting screen presences
over the last half-century plus. And when their eyes are sparkling and their
voices roll out like smooth water over rough rocks, it’s easy to remember why
they became big deals. They work well here together, but the material they’re
given is dire. Slack and inert, the sad slop has them fall down, eat pancakes,
flirt, lose clothing, splash in water and mud, and scamper up and down leafy
hills. Then they’ll pause, staring slack jawed at some gorgeous vista before
moving on, platitudes piled up on lovely landscapes before another bout of
vaguely humorous scenarios. It’s never all that funny, but at least its rarely
punishingly mean.
At it’s best, we see the two old men moving silently through
fields and trees in insipid wide shots that could easily be repurposed in ads
for life insurance, retirement accounts, or erectile dysfunction. But soon they
are back mixing it up with a parade of cameos, rolling their eyes at a camping
expert (Nick Offerman), young people (fit bros, squeaky boy scouts, and the
like), a flirty hotel proprietor (Mary Steenburgen), and an annoying
know-it-all woman (Kristen Schaal). The musty perspective in which these guys
feel self-righteously validated in scoffing at all women and children is
strange, but convincingly old-white-guy. As they bond by getting snowed on,
angering hicks, and confronting a bear (seeing Nolte standing up trapped in his
tent hollering at a wild animal is a real standout moment) the Hallmark glitter
is chokingly dusted as the music swells and the trees sway in the breeze. And
then it’s over.
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