Film and Felt

At last. In Master and Commander, Peter Weir’s first film since The Truman Show in 1998, we finally have an adventure film that’s not dumbed down to the lowest denominator of common cretin. With Weir at the helm, there was certainly reason for optimism, but after the disappointment of Richard Donner’s Timeline, I maintained a cautious approach. Rejoice, however —Master and Commander is very strong in most respects, particularly the mature manner in which Weir controls the storyline. Things begin with a five-minute stretch of establishing shots—the sea, the ship, the atmosphere. There’s no score (yet); instead, there’s the salty silence of the ocean, lapping against the stern of the H.M.S Surprise and setting the picture’s texture.

With the Napoleanic wars as a backdrop, Master and Commander is the story of Captain Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) and his ship of noblemen, mates, and sea dogs. They sail to the far side of the world in search of the French ship Acheron, a sleek gunner that twice blindsides the H.M.S Surprise during the course of the film. The Surprise is badly damaged—several die and many are wounded. Aubrey is forced to choose between his pride and reality, to discern whether his aging vessel is indeed capable of destroying the Acheron, or if that’s just a pipe dream of a veteran old sea dog. Mixing long shots that snare the oceanic feel with close-ups of the ship’s hustle and bustle, Weir pulls you in and never really lets go throughout. Small details aren’t forgotten, and his expert use of music drastically aids the final product. Twice, we’re forced to watch completely anesthetic-free operations; one an amputation, one the removal of a bullet. Both are performed without the crutch of a score to enlighten us on the severity of the situation. Instead, the sounds of the business-like voices and tools clinking is almost as wince-worthy as the knife scene in Cries and Whispers…and those of us who’ve seen Bergman’s masterpiece know just how painful that can be to sit through (Insert snide comment here, Bergman haters). The cinematography is consistently sharp, and when the score does rear its head, it lurks in the background of battle scenes, never venturing into the forefront to overpower the actual storyline. The sweeping narrative is told smoothly, with plenty of witty lines and a mostly sharp screenplay.

Along with Guy Pearce of Memento and L.A. Confidential fame, I’ve always found Crowe to be one of the finest and most versatile actors working today, and this is one of his finest performances. He can be an asshole away from the set all he pleases. Actually, if he truly is the prick that magazines make him out to be, it makes his work here all the more impressive; there’s a warmth underneath his eyes throughout, hinting at the care he has for his men buried underneath a gruff exterior. Never resorting to hammy gestures, Captain Jack commands his crew—and Crowe the celluloid—with restraint and dignity. He quietly demands respect without raising his voice—I was strangely reminded of the control that the Mr. Georges Lopez exhibits in To Be and To Have, Nicolas Philibert’s wonderful documentary about a one-room classroom in rural France. Crowe’s work here is oddly similar in its minimalist tone. Much has been made of his, er, added girth in Master and Commander, but the detractors seem to be forgetting that he did the same for The Insider back in 1999, only to drop mass poundage for his role as Maximus in Gladiator (2001). Anyway, the fast food doesn’t hinder Crowe’s screen presence at all, and he’s helped by the superb supporting work of Paul Bettany as Dr. Stephen, a quiet naturalist who fights only as a last resort. Some of the film’s most subtle and affecting moments involve the two alone, discussing and debating policy and loyalty. Their friendship is almost transcendent in its authenticity, extraordinarily rare in the age of soppy onscreen relationships. With a lesser director aboard, Master and Commander would doubtless have been an unmitigated stinker, full of cheese and clichés up the wazoo. Instead, Weir crafts an intelligent and genuine adventure, appropriate for fans of all genres. I might be overrating it ever so slightly, as I freely admit this is my kinda movie (when done right), but I see no reason to rate it lower after leaving the theatre so pumped up.

© Gabe Leibowitz 2003