a review by Jeffrey Overstreet
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Compared to Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, other recent high-seas adventures - Cutthroat Island, White Squall, The Perfect Storm, even the submarine pics K19: The Widowmaker and U-571 - feel like kids playing with boats in a tub.
In fact, the curse of ocean-faring films has been defied twice this year. In both Gore Verbinski’s Pirates of the Caribbean, a remarkable and successful commercial comedy, and this film, an artistic and ponderous epic of the Napoleonic Wars, we’ve seen two huge ships pull up alongside each other and open fire with rows of cannons at close range, with thrilling results. One gets the feeling that this will set in motion a parade of sub-par imitators. I’m seasick already.
But for now, those who wish they lived in the days of battleships with mainsails have reason to rejoice. Director Peter Weir, one of the few directors who is both an artist and a threat to the box office, triumphantly returns to the big screen with this, his most suspenseful and action-oriented motion picture. Combat is not Weir’s usual M.O.; he hasn’t filmed an all-out battle since Gallipoli. But the themes here are vintage Weir. He’s become the only cinematic storyteller committed to exploring the hard questions about how to live amid the polarizing forces of freedom and responsibility, while distinguishing between leadership and egotistical madness (The Year of Living Dangerously, Witness, Dead Poet’s Society, The Mosquito Coast, Fearless, The Truman Show).
Patched together from pieces of Patrick O’Brian’s beloved novels of early-1800s nautical warfare, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World is an exploration of power’s corrupting nature, the ethics of battle, the seduction of revenge, and the way all of God’s gifts tend to be quickly employed in the service of wickedness. Had this reviewer become a faithful O’Brian reader, perhaps this review would catalogue and bemoan Weir’s many changes to the text. But as a movie, this thing takes on some mighty waves and weathers them impressively well.
“Lucky” Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) is a bold, visionary British sea captain who cherishes his aging sea vessel, the HMS Surprise, almost as much as he cherishes the country she represents. “She’s not old,” he insists. “She’s in her prime!” Later, he declares, that his beloved boat “is England.” Aubrey’s crew views him with a mix of awe, affection, and reasonable doubt. He is, after all, a risk-taker, and sometimes those risks may not be taken so much for God and country as for his own ambition to emulate the legendary wartime captain Lord Nelson with whom he once served.
Fortunately for the men, Jack has a conscience in the form of the ship’s doctor, an endearingly God-fearing naturalist named Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany), his best friend. He may be the big screen’s first good example of a Christian open to exploring how Christian faith and evolutionary science might not be mutually exclusive. God changes the world, Maturin acknowledges, but God’s creatures are given some share in the process.
When the Surprise is sent to intercept one of Napoleon’s most notorious warships-the Acheron-Aubrey’s devil-take-the-odds approach goes wrong. An early clash between the two boats leaves the Surprise “surprised,” several men of its nearly-200-crew dead, and the threat of drowning imminent. He responds, “We’re not going home!” with all the conviction of expatriate Harrison Ford lecturing his family in The Mosquito Coast. What began with the determination to “sink, burn or take her as a prize” ends with the survivors sailing from Brazil to the wonderlands of the Galapagos in a mad pursuit of a second duel with the Acheron.
By keeping the viewers Surprise-bound, Weir cleverly builds the audience’s dread of the enemy. The Acheron is revealed slowly, a phantom in the distance, giving viewers a chill they may not have felt since the Imperial Walkers first appeared on the horizon in The Empire Strikes Back. But Aubrey is not humbled. In fact, except for fleeting expressions of loss and remorse, he looks more like a dog on the hunt, happy to have obstacles to overcome against all odds. Without Maturin’s persistent, concerned counsel, “Lucky” Jack might send them all right into early graves. The tension between the two men-the captain who would be king of the seas and the scientist who would rather catalogue sightings of rare birds for the cause of science-is fascinating.
It is also very well played. Russell Crowe turns in his most commanding lead performance yet. Aubrey is more complicated, more likeable, more thoughtful than Gladiator‘s Maximus. He’s a warrior well-versed in war, an example of focus and restraint when temptresses smile upon him, a discerning leader who knows when to hand heavy responsibility to the youngest of sailors, and a man of culture who relaxes with a violin to his chin and a bow in his hand. He’s also a God-fearing man who knows that while much is expected of men in the Almighty’s service, they are dependent on grace for survival.
Equaling, perhaps even surpassing, Crowe’s performance is Paul Bettany. Bettany, who played a rakish Chaucer and sole A Knight’s Tale right out from under Heath Ledger, played Crowe’s imaginary friend in A Beautiful Mind. He is clearly ready to step out from behind bigger stars and take charge of movies on his own. His work here is Oscar-worthy.
There are few questions more relevant and timely than the question of responsibility in wartime, and Weir handles these as issues to explore rather than sermons to preach. While this is, in a sense, only the second formulaic film of his career (the other being the romantic comedy Green Card), it is still rich with the elements that have made his projects some of the most rewarding in contemporary cinema. The Mosquito Coast‘s Allie Fox learned that dragging his family along on his anti-U.S. ultimatum was not a good idea. Fearless‘s Max Klein learned that his increasing wisdom did not excuse him from family responsibilities. Witness‘s John Book learned that there are other, perhaps “righter” ways than Might. Similarly, Aubrey learns the hard way that ambitions can easily overpower rationality when power is available.
The grand context of these moral struggles lend spiritual metaphor to scene after scene. The Surprise weathers the most spectacular storms at sea ever filmed. When we see the simple but staggering feats of strength required of men as a matter of routine in those times and circumstances, it makes submarining look like a pleasure cruise.
You can see why Master and Commander was in development for ten years in three different studios-the amount of work involved in such a project is staggering to contemplate. (Many scenes were filmed in the same massive water tank where Titanic was filmed.) The fact that it all holds together in the end is remarkable.
Russell Boyd’s patient cinematography avoids the artificial energies of Might-is-Right director Michael Bay, and thus we are moved and thrilled by events in the story rather than by stylistic flourishes. Spectacular sound design and meticulous attention to period detail plunge audiences right back into seafaring circa 1805. The wine-dark soundtrack by Iva Davies, Christopher Gordon, and Richard Tognetti is also a fine piece of work, but that has less to do with them and much more to do with “Variations on a Theme by Thomas Tallis”; the grand solemnity of the piece is a perfectly appropriate. The language, costumes, ships, and details of how boats are made and how they can be sunk are all enveloped in an air of realism. Even more brutally honest are the gory details of battle-made injury. In a scene that gives new meaning to the cliché “Physician, heal thyself!” we are forced to suffer through a character’s self-inflicted surgery, a sequence harder to watch than anything in Kill Bill-Vol. 1. Still, Weir never stoops to shock tactics, and he never stalls the story to show off or indulge in unnecessary tangents. He builds suspense and characters with more confidence, modesty, and maturity than almost all of his peers. (One can only hope his approach will inspire Spielberg as he prepares Indiana Jones 4.)
The film’s most obvious weakness is the timeworn quality of its “Manly Men Teaching Not-So-Manly Men How to Be Manly” context. Someone is likely to describe this as Dead Shipmates’ Society or Gallipoli Goes Galapagos–but this just comes with the territory. Crowe and Bettany have a fine supporting cast of guys that do just that-support. While they are convincing and interesting, they remain far enough out of the focus to keep from threatening Crowe’s and Bettany’s shots at Oscar nominations. The inclusion of Billy Boyd comes as a distraction because the actor is so recognizable as one of Peter Jackson’s Hobbits; Boyd will need a powerful performance and a unique character to distance himself from that association. It doesn’t happen here. Every time he appears, you can almost hear everyone thinking, “Pippin!” (Also distracting: The ship’s cook looks like Eric Idle with sideburns.)
There is also a subplot involving a shipmate who is disliked by his peers that smacks of cliché and predictability. And speaking of predictable, Master and Commander‘s finale is a bunch of noise and fury that seems almost insignificant compared to the battles of intellect and ego that have come before.
But the actors’ dedication and Weir’s revelry in details will make this film one that stays with us and that, hopefully, inspires enough enthusiasm to give cause for a sequel. After all, the struggles going on in Aubrey’s heart and mind are clearly far from over, and the questions of power and propriety raised in the film are still open at the end, leaving plenty of room for further voyaging.