In the last year, we’ve been privy to films starring past-their-prime legends. Films like Stand Up Guys, Last Vegas, and the upcoming Grudge Match draw thirty to sixtysomethings with nostalgic remembrances of what the actors once could do and make them feel on screen before the central gimmick of each film centered on the actors’ ages. The release of Red, its subpar sequel Red 2, and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel in the last year also capitalized on this most-often untapped demographic. While the films are often rife with jokes about age, infirmities, incontinence, and eventual death, the bright side to these films is the understanding that age is not nearly the limitation that it was once seen to be. At the same time, the gimmick of age is tiring and often devolves the screenplay to formerly relevant, but now seemingly archaic catch phrases. And while this could be seen as tongue in cheek or a mark of success for actors and actresses who are essentially declaring, I have fame, I have fortune, I’m going to have fun, the overall cheesiness of each film mocks and tarnishes their legacies.
To be fair, I will never forget the first time I saw Raging Bull or watched Pacino scream “Attica! Attica!” However, the idea that DeNiro and Stallone will be mocking their two most iconic characters in the upcoming Grudge Match is a bit sad. Sad in the sense that the characters have become a punchline, but even sadder because both actors have become tools for the creatively bankrupt.
All that said, it’s refreshing to see Robert Redford fight against the dying of the celebrity light and offer a tour de force performance in this year’s All is Lost. At seventy-seven years old, Redford is Our Man, the only character throughout the movie. While the beginning of the film grated me momentarily at the end insomuch as it prophecies a film about Shadenfreude and delivers something else at the last minute, Redford’s performance is intense and one of the best of the year.
Waking to the sound of a loose cargo box penetrating the side of his yacht, Our Man maintains calm and becomes as resourceful as possible to patch the boat. Patiently, he mends it with glue. The salt-water soaked radio and GPS, he puts out to dry and attempts to repair them. Fashioning a handle out of a piece of wood, he sumps the water out of the hull by hand. And then a storm hits. Again, he takes it in stride, performing the actions of a dutiful and knowledgeable sailor.
And then another hits. His mast is broken. His sail is torn to shreds, and his boat is quickly sinking.
There are few crescendos throughout the film to explain the severity of the situation. They are unnecessary. Our Man works diligently to keep his head and boat afloat, only breaking down once when he finds that his container of potable water has been contaminated by the salty ocean – after he is forced to abandon the boat and seek refuge in an inflatable raft that sits like a delicate membrane being carried at the whim of the sea. Even then, he devises a way to procure a small bit of clean, drinkable water.
Much like we see in Open Water or Gravity, the protagonist here just can’t catch a break. Like those two films, there are few answers or reasons offered as to why he suffers. All we know is that he does. At the same time, there is something deeper to All is Lost than there is to other isolation or survival films. We learn that Our Man is self-isolating, and that maybe all was lost before he began his adventure When we meet Our Man, he is sleeping until he is awoken by the rogue shipping container. And then he is in action. And then he lays down to rest again, until a storm comes on. This repetitive action offers a definition to the character who speaks only a few lines throughout the film.
One of the lines might provide us insight as to why he is so far removed from everything and everyone. The first time he speaks, he sends out a futile SOS through his broken radio, but we find that the boat’s name is Virginia Jean. It’s certainly not unusual that a boat is given a woman’s name, but prior to this, there is a tight shot on his left ring finger, which dons an ornate ring with a blue jewel in the center. In it appearance, it is not a typical wedding ring; however, his right hand’s ring finger has a solid band that much closer resembles a symbol of marriage. The displacement here suggests that there was once someone, but now she is gone. It is unclear whether or not the relationship was broken or disrupted by death, but it’s clear that the boat has become Our Man’s object of desire, that which he wants to keep from letting go, and that in which he wants to find solace.
