What, exactly, is The Edge? The title of the new movie--directed
by Lee Tamahori from a screenplay by David Mamet--presumably refers to the
thin line between civility and savagery, and how it can be crossed when a
man is lost in the wilderness. Yet the movie is about no such thing. Yes,
nerves are rubbed raw, and we do witness the spectacle of men at odds with
nature and with each other, but this is no Lord of the Flies or
Treasure of the Sierra Madre. It's really just a rousing outdoor
adventure story, and any pretensions to greatness or deep meaning begin and
end with the title.
Anthony Hopkins stars as Charles, a reserved billionaire with a quick
mind and a great command of useful facts. On a weekend excursion to the
mountains with his supermodel wife (Elle MacPherson) and her entourage of
photographers and colleagues, Charles gets roped into a jaunt to a remote
hunting cabin. The seaplane that carries the errand boys flies into a flock
of migrating geese, and it crashes into the lake below. The only survivors
are Charles, a photographer named Bob (Alec Baldwin), and Bob's assistant
Stephen (Harold Perrineau). The trio pull themselves to shore, but they
question their chances of survival in the middle of nowhere with no
supplies and little hope of rescue.
The fun of The Edge comes from watching Charles think his way out
of the predicament. So many movies these days aren't quite up to the
cleverness of their premises; films as big as The Game and as
shoestring as Dream With the Fishes are united by their
stiltedness--their melodies are too complicated for their composers to
play. The Edge, like the recently released L.A. Confidential,
constantly surprises us with its imagination. Early on, Charles points out
that people lost in the wild tend to die of shame, because they do not stop
and think. To The Edge's credit, it makes these thought
processes exciting to watch.
For this, the praise mainly belongs to Hopkins, who delivers Mamet's
punchy dialogue with amusing contemplation, oblivious to how irrationally
rational he sounds. While others about him are losing their heads, Charles
is calmly explaining how to start a fire with carved ice. Credit also goes
to Mamet's careful plotting, which is almost cruel in its contrivances. For
all of Charles' ingenuity--his experiments with makeshift compasses and
deadfall animal traps--he can't quite plan around the vicissitudes of
nature. He's hampered by the unreliability of his fellow castaways
(especially Bob, who may have had an affair with Charles' wife) and by the
appetite of a man-eating Kodiak bear. At every turn, no matter how
well-prepared he is, Charles' life is in danger.
The Edge's weakness is that it gets hooked on the danger--the
bear and the betrayals. The film consists of one crisis after another,
until it becomes all about the crises and not enough about the characters.
Tamahori keeps the action tight and thrilling, and Mamet's dialogue is
typically brittle, but the script lacks scope. We know these men only when
they're in trouble, and we have hints about who they are in the real world,
but ultimately we have no stake in the ways their wilderness experience
changes them. We're wrapped up in the perils of the moment, but we don't
especially care about how things turn out.
What we're left with is a film that's entertaining, but hardly as
resonant as one should expect from Mamet. At one point, Bob mentions that
being stranded in the mountains is a lot different from snorting cocaine
off the hipbones of fashion models, and Charles replies, "In what way?"
It's a funny moment, and it says a lot about Charles' character, but the
movie would've been much improved had the filmmakers answered his
question.