A man on a quest for revenge, survival in a vast, wintery landscape, an attractive leading man crawling into the cozy interior of a horse carcass. You’ve seen it all before, but never quite like this. Alejandro Iñárritu’s The Revenant is a full on assault of the filmmaking medium, always testing the limits of the camera and never settling for anything less than stunning. The story is a familiar one: Hugh Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a fur trapper in the early 19th century’s Midwest. He’s a man without much in life, well, two things to be exact: a dangerous job without vacation days or benefits and his son Hawk (Forrest Goodluck). It’s an average day on the job for Glass—ravaging land, fighting off Native Americans, scowling intensely into the sunlight—until an unfortunate encounter with a carnivorous mammal (you know the one) leaves him inches away from death’s door. To make matters worse is fellow trapper Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy), whose nefarious actions set Glass down a path of healing, self-discovery and cold-blooded revenge.
Our hero has a rough couple of days, and Iñárritu never lets us forget it. In the course of this two-and-a half-hour Western, we witness Hugh Glass have multiple seizures, fall off of a cliff while on horseback, eat the remains of any creature he can find, and cauterize his own wound à la Rambo III, among other horrible things. We see nauseating image after nauseating image, filmed as though they’re the world’s most elegant postcards. It’s both jarring and hypnotizing, horrifying and beautiful. But at the end of the day, this onslaught of visual language fails to say much at all. Make no mistake, The Revenant is directorial pornography. And much like other types of pornography, the experience can be aesthetically pleasing yet ultimately unrewarding.
Perhaps this characterization is a bit harsh. After all, Iñárritu has proven himself to be one of the most ambitious artists alive, constantly experimenting within an industry that plays it safe far too often. The man is a visionary, and he proves it time and time again throughout the film. His command of the camera, his use of perspective, his awareness of scope are nothing short of masterful. And he continues to use techniques that very few people in Hollywood even attempt; not since Henry Hill walked Karen through the Copacabana restaurant have we seen the long take executed to such perfection. If nothing else, The Revenant serves as a glimpse inside the mind of a genius.
However, the problem with geniuses is that their vision has a tendency to overpower their restraint. Filmmakers are not painters, they are storytellers. Telling the story is the number one priority, which often means getting out of the way and letting the movie do the talking. The best directors are the ones you don’t notice. Unfortunately for The Revenant, you always feel Iñárritu breathing down your neck, his fingerprints smudged on every frame of film. His presence is impossible to ignore, from the overbearing Christ imagery (Glass might as well be a Jewish carpenter who turns water into wine) to the painstakingly long pans to the slight fracturing of the fourth wall. It’s like watching Kobe Bryant play basketball: you know he’s a superstar, but you want to see him pass the ball every once in a while.
Strip away the style, and you’re not left with much substance. The bulk of public praise has gone to DiCaprio, the odds-on favorite to win the Oscar, for his uncompromising grunting, crawling and digestion of raw meat. In reality, it’s a fairly one-dimensional role that makes you think the award is more about endurance than, you know, acting. The unsung hero here is Hardy, who, despite his character’s cartoonish villainy, is able to steal every scene he’s in. You often find yourself drawn to Fitzgerald, not because he’s a likable guy but because he’s always the most interesting thing on screen. By the end of Glass’s slog of a journey, the film reaches the same climax as the last five Clint Eastwood movies. You’re left to ponder a theme that we all saw coming and a character that does not change, with the exception of some torn ligaments and damaged vocal cords. You think you enjoyed the ride, but you’re not sure you went anywhere.
Alas, we must forgive the Mexican film god, for he does not know the ill of his own ways. There are moments in The Revenant that will stick with you forever, the bear attack scene being the most unforgettable. And to go this entire review without mentioning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki would simply be criminal. The film’s undisputed MVP, Lubezki shoots every frame with natural lighting, creating a color palette that is simultaneously calming and uncomfortable. You can almost feel the cold air of the Louisiana Purchase while sitting in the theater, understanding Glass’s pain from the comfort of your leather recliner. It’s a cinematic feat that you’ve truly never seen before. Only problem is, you’ll probably never want to see anything like it again. If only Iñárritu had taken a lesson from his own creation: Like Hugh Glass ripping away at the innards of his lifeless stead, less is so much more.
