The line between historical revisionism and accuracy has long been an intense debate within narrative fiction. Some argue that the author or director should have complete artistic freedom, while others argue that authenticity and accuracy are paramount. I think that each film should be judged on a case by case basis. Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” is obviously not an attempt at historical accuracy; it’s an application of “Pulp Fiction"'s thematic qualities in the setting of World War II. On the other hand, a film like “Saving Private Ryan” is a cohesive and precise narrative that is steeped in the historical traditions and events of the time immediately following the D-Day landing.
Thus, “The Revenant” is in an awkward position. It places itself firmly in the realist tradition with fight scenes lingering on stab wounds and gore with an unflinching but restrained camera, no artificial light in the mise-en-scene, and no stylization in the dialogue. Yet, the film’s plot is completely fabricated and it’s not clear why. The true story of Hugh Glass is this: He was mauled by a bear, two of his fellow fur-trappers, Fitzgerald and Bridger, abandoned him after fighting off Indians, and when Glass returned, he spared both men. I think, based on my pontificating introduction, it’s obvious that this didn’t happen in the film. But what makes Inarritu’s decision so baffling is not that the story he creates is completely different, but that every one of his decisions makes the film worse. All of the potential ambiguities of the actual story are abandoned for a fictitious, one-dimensional rendition.
Particularly frustrating is the portrayal of Glass’s fellow trapper, Fitzgerald, in the film. He is a caricature of evil, with a lazy, predictable script staking him out as an unequivocal villain. He is portrayed as the only racist character in the entire film -- a ridiculous notion given the film takes place in 1823 -- which is done solely to make the audience immediately dislike him. To add icing onto the hate-cake he inexplicably has a personal vendetta against Glass. The film never lends credibility to Fitzgerald’s understandable trepidation in trying to save the all but dead Glass, and the argument others in the group make against leaving Glass after he’s mauled is disproven by the film itself. Ashley, the leader of their hunting expedition, claims that Glass is needed to navigate back to camp, but they do so without his help anyway. Instead, the film portrays the plot’s advancement as due to Fitzgerald’s avaricious intentions and wanton murder, as if all of the other members of the crew aren’t racist, financially strapped, and participating in the expedition just for money.
Another frustration is the inconsistency of how the film represents resilience and survival. In violation of its love for grit and brutality, Glass is almost superhuman in his durability. The first time he should have died is when he falls down the rapids. Just moments before, he had cauterized his neck because it was bleeding and he couldn’t walk, yet he falls down a series of rapids and is only stronger because of it -- he starts walking afterward. The other egregious moment is when Glass falls off a cliff into a pine tree. The man can barely walk, but still survives a harrowing drop without breaking any bones or in any way showing injury. These moments would be excusable if the film was going for a more fantastical tone, but it is consistently uncompromising in its brutality, the film portrays itself as a retelling. Both of its ostensible ambitions are discredited by the film’s details.
What the film should be commended on is its camera work. The film employs ground-level shots during action and chase sequences with shaky movement to increase the tension and pace of the action. It also displays moments of patience, sitting still when showing Glass’ struggle as he crawls around. During fights, the camera also gets claustrophobic with close-ups of the actors; this is particularly effective in the last scene. Juxtaposed with these tight close ups are expansive, Fordian shots of the wilderness to make the typical commentary on man’s impotence relative to nature. The most effective examples are two that feature Glass. The first is during travel down the Missouri River on a log and the second is him slowing walking in a snow filled valley.
The film’s lack of tone is frustrating. It desires realism and grit -- eating raw liver, triumphantly showing the disembowelment of a horse, etc. -- but also fabricates major parts of the story and features obnoxious oneiric sequences. They do nothing to make the audience care about the wife that is never met and instead add minutes to the already onerous run time and largely glacial pace. And no pretty camera work can save a film from itself.
