MOVIE REVIEW: Into the Wild

Why do humans, mostly young men, feel the so-called call of the wild? I am almost certain that when my distant cousin, the Chihuahua, hears the call of the wild, it is a coyote issuing an invitation for dinner. Chihuahua steak tartare is, along with Siamese cat sashimi, high on the list of desirable appetizers for the urban coyote.

These men, like Christopher McCandless and Timothy Treadwell--the most famous examples of recent years, seem influenced heavily by the writerJack London who wrote a book entitled, "The Call of the Wild" as well as "White Fang." As my gentle readers well know, I much prefer the work of Albert Payson Terhune and even Eric Knight.


London's novel was about a dog named Buck who leaves a pampered life for servitude as a sled dog in the Yukon during the gold rush of the 19th century. The book was published in 1903 and followed up by the 1906 "White Fang." The protagonist is a dog--half St. Bernard and half collie. I would say, this isn't the best combination. Buck, luckily, isn't a lap dog and becomes the alpha of a pack.

"White Fang" is also about a dog, this one part wolf, who is something of an outcast although dogs are generally more accepting than people. He eventually finds his pack--a kind master who takes him back.

Yet here is the main point. Dogs understand that dogs need other dogs, or if that's not possible, a good human will do. The emphasis, of course, is on the good part.

A lone dog is doomed. He or she will not survive. I am sure that the Chihuahua knows this very clearly and that is why my cousin shivers when left alone. Even the most alpha Chihuahua knows one doesn't want a pack of Chihuahuas to survive should one be lost in the wild. He must also fear that dog eat dog mentality because only the most indulgent pack would accept him for what use can this little cousin possibly be?

A lone dog, a lone coyote or a lone wolf is a failure in the grand scheme of things. This canine howls because he or she is lonely. This loner might be too stupid to deal with pack politics, too weak to be of use, too old to keep up with the pack or too young and inexperienced to form and lead a pack of his or her own.

This is why I find it so puzzling as to why men would want to go alone "Into the Wild." Timothy Treadwell liked to foster the mystique of loneliness, but in reality he often had company and his last companion died with him. McCandless wandered about, joining and leaving packs. There's something heartbreaking about this lost soul as played by Emile Hirsch. Unlike a dog pack, his father hasn't driven him off. Other packs make the appropriate signs, offering him a place within their pack and as agreeable as he finds these people, he does not accept.

I would guess that I'd have a better chance than a Chihuahua or Pug at surviving in the wild, I could join a pack and hunt down something to eat instead of having my loving human friend serve me breakfast in a bowl. I could eat raw meat and chew on rotted meat if I had to do so. Yet I do not really treasure the idea of suddenly going as far north as my legs could take me and as far away from civilization as possible. I've heard stories that the Native Alaskans ate fat and their dogs were regularly fed lard or fat--something that would make the painfully thin chic of Beverly Hills shiver in both disgust and secret lust and the modern urban human and dog doctors wrinkle their brows thinking of clogged arteries. Without central heating (and air conditioning) one tends to burn up a tremendous amount of calories. One gathers that McCandless, in his limited research, didn't consider this. Nor did he seem to have considered how the Native Alaskans and current occupants survived. He didn't even consider the common practice of humans--making emergency arrangements so that someone might check in on him.

As the director Sean Penn shows us a pack of wolves taking advantage of his spoiled moose meat, London's "The Call of the Wild" comes to mind and for a dog as well as a dog lover, the complete insanity of a human trying to survive alone in a climate so hostile to normal survival should be clear. Jack London's short story, "To Build a Fire" should have indicated that anything can happen and it doesn't have to be during 50 degree below zero for a human to need another soul. Much later in 2003 (McCandless died in 1992), a lone hiker named Aron Ralston would be forced to amputate his arm when it became trapped under a boulder. He was hiking alone and without having informed anyone of his plans--two things one should always do if one truly wants to return to one's pack. There have been cases of coyotes and wolves and even dogs, chewing off their legs when trapped and yet, they always want to return to their pack.

If given the choice, the Chihuahua or the Scottish Collie or even the common mixed blood cur, would gladly find comfort on a warm bed with company. Hirsch has the charm of a young puppy, one aged about 15-months in dog years or perhaps 16 years in human years. He's a pup at the age where he adventurous enough to wander outside the boundaries of his pack and yet not mature enough to accept responsibility. Perhaps that bit of rebelliousness when he refuses his father's offer of a car suggests 18-months in dog years and 17-18 in human years. Yet by human age, McCandless was older. He had recently graduated from college, making him in his early twenties and 24 when he died. Humans oddly may never grow out of their puppyhood and McCandless, died for his lack of judgment.

One may not be the human equivalent of the Chihuahua, one might be the equivalent to a short-haired hunting dog of some sort or a sleek sight-hound meant for warm-weather life. Rare is the human who can survive low temperatures without a good coat and not the kind one grows oneself. Yet even the Labrador and the Saluki want to join a pack. Dogs and humans are social animals and when they hear the call of the wild, they hope it is an invitation to run with a group of undomesticated cousins or domestic dogs uneducated in the ways of humankind and the luxuries of that life. They do not mean to wander out into the night to live and survive alone. From a dog's perspective, I would fault Penn's movie in this respect. There is nothing heroic about unwisely leaping into the wild and dying because one was unprepared. When humans make heroes out of fools, it can only encourage other romantic humans to be even more foolhardy as a way of gaining fame. After all, they didn't make "Grizzly Man" and "Into the Wild" because these men survived, but because these men died in ways that could have prevented had they exercised some human common sense.

I suppose that if one can't be Jack London or Jon Krakauer (who wrote the book on which the movie is based) or Sean Penn and become famous for one's own writing or work, one can become posthumously famous through the good work of famous people who write or make movies. As a dog, I find this human striving for fame quite puzzling.