In the Heart of the Sea
Don't Go! Gets lost at sea.
Male sail whale tale.
Ron Howard is the irrepressible American director. His films are quintessentially “Hollywood”, always bright, dramatised and populist; occasionally excellent (Apollo 13), occasionally overrated (Oscar winner, A Beautiful Mind) and occasionally lamentable (The Da Vinci Code). He tells tales of battles between men as they, in turn, battle with external forces; be that the speed of an F1 car (Rush), being punched repeatedly in the head (Cinderella Man), presidential impeachment (Frost/Nixon), or a hellish hairdo, demonic dialogue and sadistic storyline (Angels & Demons). Keeping up those habits (which includes working with leading men more than once), he gives us The Heart of the Sea, with Chris Hemsworth (Rush) in the lead role as the ship’s first mate, Owen Chase.
Described as the “Incredible True Story that Inspired Moby Dick”, The Heart of the Sea is about the Essex – an American whaling ship that was destroyed by a big, spunky, legitimately pissed-off sperm whale in 1820. It traces the journey of the crew from Nantucket to the South Pacific and back again through a fictional conversation between the traumatised, alcoholic former cabin boy, Thomas Nickerson (Brendan Gleeson, Suffragette) and author of Moby Dick, Herman Melville (Ben Whishaw, Spectre), held 30 years after the disaster. Beside facing the whale, Nickerson divulges the contest for overall command of the ship between Chase and the inexperienced Captain Pollard (Benjamin Walker, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter) and the strains of being stranded and forced towards cannibalism. In many respects it is like Life of Pi, but on a bigger boat, and – here’s the kicker – without any of the cinematic cine-magic.
For a true and potentially harrowing story, the film goes out of its way to seem fictional and sanitary. We’re talking here about the three-month survival in open water of men who ended up munching on the meatier bits of their recently deceased friends, all the while being chased down by one of the biggest (and apparently most vindictive) creatures on planet earth. Even Chris Hemsworth’s dedication to the cause by losing 18kg (nearly 3 stones) seems wasted under the gushing waves of saturated colours, romanticised drama, sweeping music, incongruously grandiose dialogue and all-round unconvincing acting. To have purpose, a true-story version of a well-known work of fiction should be girded with cold realism. Instead, like a slightly-sozzled middle-manager at an office Christmas party, In the Heart of the Sea flirts ambitiously and indecisively: not quite a Jaws-like monster movie; not quite a Castaway-like survival story; and drifting many miles from the desirable shore of a reflection of man’s arrogance in the face of nature. Strong visuals, some inventive cinematography and a solid use of 3D are all unable to bail out a ship that is this leaky from the moment it leaves port.
By consequence, like a fart in the sea, it has so far gone largely unnoticed; barely raising a salty bubble in the American box office compared to the $100 million it cost to make. To try and reverse that result in the UK, Chris and Ron have been doing the rounds like buyers for DFS; sitting on as many TV talk show couches and radio swivel chairs as their eager buttocks can handle.
Don’t be seduced, even by the lure of Chris Hemsworth’s buttocks. It’s a big effort but a disappointing one. Don’t go.
By consequence, like a fart in the sea, it has so far gone largely unnoticed; barely raising a salty bubble in the American box office compared to the $100 million it cost to make. To try and reverse that result in the UK, Chris and Ron have been doing the rounds like buyers for DFS; sitting on as many TV talk show couches and radio swivel chairs as their eager buttocks can handle.
Don’t be seduced, even by the lure of Chris Hemsworth’s buttocks. It’s a big effort but a disappointing one. Don’t go.
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