The Movie Nut

Suddenly it's holiday crunch time in Hollywood. Big-ticket items like "American Gangster" (worthy) and "Bee Movie" (kidworthy) and "Lions for Lambs" (underwhelming) are jammed into theaters. "Beowulf," with Angelina Jolie, and "Sweeny Todd," with Johnny Depp, are right around the corner, and we'll be swamped with impending blockbusters until the end of the year.

Meanwhile, a couple of magnificent little flicks have stubbornly hung on to an audience- but may not be around much longer. As of this writing, neither film has hit the $10-million mark at the box office, although both are beautiful, poignant efforts that deserve attention. So if Alist bloodshed or talking-head political babble isn't to your liking, I highly recommend these fine films while they're still in theaters.

Christopher McCandless' journey, as recounted in the nonfiction best seller by Jon Krakauer, has already attained cult status amid the disaffected "Thoreau" crowd. This is a daunting tale of one disgruntled young man's attempts to flee society, only to eventually find himself alone and overwhelmed in the Alaskan wilderness.

There's a noble foolhardiness to the tale- a Don Quixote-esque sadness about Chris, whose soul has been suffocated by his family's choice of lifestyle over substance. Instead of turning inward, Chris (Emile Hirsch) turns outward, gradually abandoning most of what society holds dear, searching for the intangible meaning of self.

Along the way Chris discovers fringe elements of likewise disenchanted folks- aging hippies, blissful vagabonds and selfimposed castaways. These folks have found happiness in their isolation, peace in their nonconformity. Unfortunately, Chris' pain is too deeply rooted, and he eventually shuns those who would take him in and make him whole. Instead, he remains stubbornly determined to plunge into the rugged expanse of nature, hoping to purge his inner demons.

The other hero of the story, sadly unsung in Sean Penn's film, is Chris' sister Carine (Jena Malone). Younger than Chris and trapped in the same dysfunctional nightmarish household, she remains behind while he treks cross-country.

Carine narrates her brother's story the best she can- imagining both Chris' tortured moments and his exultations. Yet she spends years apart from the brother she clearly loves, yearning for any snippet of contact, which never comes. If her brother's quest is spiritual, it is one carried on a selfish wind; there's a poignant undercurrent of heartache in hearing Carine's words of concern and wonder.

Chris McCandless kept copious notes of those he met and, alone in the wilderness, of his thoughts and eventual understanding. Near the end of his journey, trapped by the raging rivers of a spring thaw, with food dwindling and no fresh game, Chris had begun to grow out of his own naivete- perhaps even to perceive the transformational value of forgiveness.

There persists an omniscient spiritual calmness to the film and, if one chooses to peek behind the facade, a warning about society's current notion of power and money as that obligatory golden ring we're all taught to snatch, no matter the cost. "Into the Wild" suggests there are perhaps others ways to succeed, even more rewarding than our own (and our parents') traditional values.

It's impossible to begin explaining "Lars and the Real Girl" without some folks rolling their eyes and snickering. Lars Lindstrom (Ryan Gosling) is an emotionally stunted young man, shy around women to the point of ineptitude. So the delusional Lars purchases Bianca, a life-sized, fully featured, "anatomically correct" doll, and presents it to his family as his new girlfriend.

This one could have gone wrong in so many ways. Yet Lars is so earnest, so sincere in presenting Bianca as "real" that both his family and we in the audience go along with his frail attempts to find a semblance of normality in his small, snow-swept Midwest village.

And in his attempt to make Bianca feel "at ease"- because she's shy, foreign and confined to a wheelchair- Lars himself begins to blossom. His family, of course, takes him to the town doctor (Patricia Clarkson), who also serves as a psychiatrist. In the course of her pretense to "treat" Bianca, she begins to uncover Lars' turmoil.

Do realize that Craig Gillespie's gentle film isn't some frat-boy farce, rife with droll sexual humor. This is, in fact, a film about mental illness. And the humor we derive from Lars solemnly presenting his new girlfriend to the town is genuine, without humiliation.

This is also the first time I've heard the phrase "What would Jesus do?" in a movie without wanting to stand up and walk out. This isn't a religious film by any means, and yet it poses a spiritual message far greater than any so-called "Christian" film I've yet to encounter. People care for Lars and thus they learn to care for Bianca- and when she begins to spend more quality time with the townsfolk than Lars, one can't help but smile.

Because when the town pastor does pose the question to Lars' bewildered neighbors, I suspect many of us truly know the answer. And in that realization, one also understands how humanity blossoms when we serve the needs of others rather than simply judging them.