海角大神

Movies about extreme heights and extreme sports invite a particular kind of voyeurism. For those of us who would never in our wildest imaginings ride a bike off a sky-high mountain peak and then parachute to earth, I can heartily recommend the documentary 鈥淢ountain,鈥� where such feats are standard.

Actually, I鈥檓 making the movie sound a lot more like an ESPN special than what it really is: a cinematic essay, complete with high-flown voice-over narration provided by Willem Dafoe. The Australian director Jennifer Peedom, with the immense contribution of her cinematographer, Renan Ozturk, and a pull-out-the-stops score featuring Richard Tognetti鈥檚 Australian Chamber Orchestra, shot over 2,000 hours of footage in 15 countries, including the United States, Norway, Tibet, and New Zealand. At a brisk 74 minutes, it鈥檚 a high-altitude jamboree. (Peedom鈥檚 2005 doc, 鈥淪herpa,鈥� was much more straightforward.)聽

A word of caution about that voice-over narration: It鈥檚 derived from Robert Macfarlane鈥檚 memoir 鈥淢ountains of the Mind,鈥� and it鈥檚 so florid that it verges on parody. Here鈥檚 a sample: 鈥淥nly gods and monsters dwelled at heights.鈥� Or this: 鈥淭o those who are enthralled by mountains, their wonder is beyond all dispute. To those who are not, their allure is a kind of madness.鈥澛�

Count me in the 鈥渒ind of madness鈥� camp, at least when it comes to doing anything other than marveling at them. It鈥檚 one thing to gaze up goggle-eyed at Everest, quite another to dirt-bike down it. When it is not making us 鈥渙oh鈥� and 鈥渁h,鈥� 鈥淢ountain鈥� features all manner of adventurers, including ice climbers, those aforementioned parachuting mountain bikers, wingsuiters, and daredevil downhill skiers. Their exploits are captured by helicopter, drones, and GoPros. As someone who has difficulty negotiating the rope tow on the beginner ski slope, to me all of this is quite heady.

The movie isn鈥檛 real big on who/what/when/where, and I often had to figure out exactly what mountain range I was looking at 鈥� except for Everest, of course, which gets pride of place here. The film鈥檚 thesis is that, until three centuries ago, it was deemed an act of lunacy to climb such a mountain. Mountains 鈥渨ere places of peril, not beauty,鈥� intones Dafoe, although, if anything, 鈥淢ountain鈥� demonstrates that they can be both. He adds, 鈥淭hey were rituals of awe, but only from a safe distance.鈥� What appears to have changed is that, in the film鈥檚 view, urban life just became too darned safe, and so we needed mountain climbing to seek out new perils. I use the term 鈥渨e鈥� here advisedly, although Dafoe doesn鈥檛. I often felt like piping up, 鈥淪peak for yourself. I鈥檓 content with climbing stairs.鈥澛�

It鈥檚 questionable whether this film needs narration at all, or at least whether it needs the faux biblical lyricisms served up here. The panoramas are so glorious that I didn鈥檛 ache to hear any highfalutin hoo-ha on the soundtrack. It鈥檚 the same problem I have with most Shakespeare movies, in which the 鈥減oetic鈥� imagery often competes with the language to the detriment of both. 鈥淢ountain鈥� would be better if it were simpler.

Peedom dutifully records some of the injuries, and worse, that extreme mountaineering entails, but she saves her biggest sorrow for what Everest has become: an overrun tourist trap for amateur adventurers who, guided by a fleet of overworked and presumably underpaid Sherpas, attempt partial ascents. But Everest doesn鈥檛 seem to care that it has become Everest Inc. It rises into the clouds as unspeakably beautiful as ever. Mountains, the movie suggests, want nothing from us. Grade: B (Rated PG for perilous sports action, some injury images, and brief smoking.)