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- CINEMA, Page 97Call of the Wilderness
-
-
- By Richard Schickel
-
-
- THE BEAR Directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud Screenplay by Gerard
- Brach
-
- An orphan bear cub. A big solitary bear. Two hunters in the
- forest. The animals' point of view.
-
- That may be the shortest treatment in the history of the
- movies. It is surely one of the most truthful because, seven
- years and $25 million later, the four modest sentences that set
- this film in motion still accurately summarize The Bear. And,
- ironically, they send exactly the wrong signals to the
- sophisticated filmgoers who should be its most appreciative
- audience.
-
- The outline could as well describe a nature documentary or
- even a children's picture -- anyway, something bland, earnest
- or otherwise simpleminded. This is not to imply that The Bear,
- which is an adaptation by French filmmakers of a 1916 novel by
- the American outdoorsman James Oliver Curwood, lacks educational
- value. Or that children will not be charmed by the misadventures
- of its bouncy, cuddly hero. But the highest pleasures of this
- wondrous movie lie not in its apparently artless narrative but
- in the artful ways it transcends it.
-
- The trick is quite simple to describe, ridiculously hard to
- execute. As director Annaud says, he and screenwriter Brach
- only placed their animals in very basic survival situations "in
- which a bear or a man would respond in the same ways." That is
- to say, by resorting to their common store of instincts: to
- fight or flee, to seek food, shelter, sex. The difficulties of
- capturing all this on film, using actors that are willful,
- dangerous and, of course, nonverbal, requires awesome patience
- and artifice, both on location and in postproduction. At the
- level of technique, The Bear is to other films about nature what
- Star Wars was to science-fiction movies: a redefinition of the
- state of the art.
-
- But like George Lucas' film, The Bear works not because it
- is technically expert but because of the connections it makes
- with primal emotions. We form an instant attachment to a near
- helpless creature whose mother is killed by falling rocks. Nor
- can we entirely avoid anthropomorphizing the cub's attempts to
- survive on his own or to attach himself to a full-grown male as
- a protector-mentor. He is such a vulnerable little guy,
- infinitely curious and dangerously, comically distractible --
- whether by a passing butterfly or the moon's reflection in a
- pond.
-
- Indeed, as humans, with a powerful sense of our own
- species' capacity for evil, we are more alarmed by the intrusion
- of hunters into the animals' territory than these creatures,
- guided by untutored instinct rather than bitter experience, can
- possibly be. We fear for the older bear's life as he does not;
- we imagine the degradations of captivity as the cub cannot. But
- these emotions are not imposed by the movie. There is almost no
- dialogue, no voice-over narration to cue audience response, and
- composer Philippe Sarde's lovely score is similarly discreet.
- This very pure picture entrusts all its meaning to images, and
- then trusts the audience to read them correctly.
-
-