Steep Stars

On the big screen: Steep
On the small screen: Stardust


In the recent tradition of Groundbreaking Extreme [insert sport here] Documentaries, Steep is a doc about Big Mountain Skiing. Specifically, skiing down incredibly steep, dangerous mountain slopes that are/were considered unskiable, like the Grand Teton in Wyoming, which got skied by a charming guy who now seems like the world's coolest grandpa, but was obviously a lot younger when he did it back in 1971. His feat, chronicled by the local newspaper, opened up a lot of skiers' eyes to what might be possible on two planks of wood fastened to your feet, and the age of Big Mountain Skiing was born.

Big Mountain Skiing (BMS) differs from regular downhill skiing in that it emphasizes huge height (i.e. the summit of Everest), dramatically steep slopes (55 degrees or more), and an off-the-beaten-path sensibility. There are no lifts, trails, guards, or rules. BMS also accepts that death is a very likely outcome every time one hits the slopes. Try getting that at Vail.

The filmmakers follow the tropes set down by the Sports History Documentarians' rules, and we get a review of the evolution of big mountain skiing from the American Rockies, to Chamonix in France to the accessible-only-by-helicopter mountains of Valdez, Alaska. We meet a few big names (only a dozen or so, but I don't know if that's because that's all there are, or because BMS is a sport with a high mortality rate), and they tell their stories of how they got into skiing and what their biggest accomplishments were. Despite the difference in age, sex, and birthplace, the stories all sound pretty similar, which leads to some repetition as the movie progresses. Equally repetitious is everyone's denial that they are addicted to the adrenaline rush BMS provides, a denial proven a lie by the very footage they're all so eager to film.

As should be expected, the visuals are fairly stunning. Many scenes were shot from a helicopter, showing the magnificent snow-covered landscapes that our heroes glide through. Particularly in Valdez, the viewer can appreciate just how frackin' huge and dominating these mountains are, and how just bitty the skiers look as they're ripping down the slopes at 50 mph.

A chunk of the film is devoted to stunt-skiiers (a sort of subgroup of BMS), and the camera works hard to show the audience how mindbendingly daring/stupid some of these athletes are (one guy uses a parachute so that he can ski off cliffs and still land without killing himself). Curiously, I was much less interested in this portion of the movie. These skiers all make a living by doing "ski films," akin to sponsored skateboarders filming their sweet tricks and getting paid. While I admit that these folks are really skilled and far more gutsy than I am, I don't really give a shit about them. I felt too much like I was being marketed to: isn't this cool? Don't you want to join us? We're so awesome…

In fact, at the end of the film, I felt a sad sense of meh. Despite the lovely mountains, and the asskicking moves, and the adrenaline dripping off the screen, not once did I catch myself mentally adding myself to the movie, which is – I think – a good measure of any film's pull.

If Steep takes you to a world above the clouds where only few dare to go, the decidedly non-documentarian Stardust takes you to a world behind a wall, where only a few are allowed to go. Neil Gaiman wrote this story as a book quite a while ago. I never read the book, and I can only hope that it's more coherent than the movie. Further, I don't know if it was Gaiman who did the screenplay, and I'm not going to bother to find out.

Briefly, our Hero lives in a little English village next to a mysterious wall, behind which is a magic kingdom. One night, our hero sees a star fall into the forest behind the wall, and vows to bring it back to the snotty girl he likes to impress her. Once in the mysterious kingdom, he finds the meteorite, which in fact turns out to be Claire Danes. Hellbent on impressing Pretty Village Girl, he promptly kidnaps Danes and starts heading back home.

However, since falling stars are rare and magical, there are a number of other people keen on getting their paws on Danes as well. These people include a few unsavory princes, a few unsavory witches, and a few unsavory random folks. Begin the chase. Hijinks ensue. Will love blossom between the Hero and the Star? Will good triumph over bad? Will destiny be fulfilled? Well, what do you think?

The answers to all of these questions, of course, are yes, yes, and hell yes. However, the way they get answered is hugely over-complicated, tossing in characters and tricks and misunderstandings to stretch out what is ultimately a paper-thin plot. This wouldn't necessarily be a problem -- after all, many of the best movies are simply a Point A to Point B plot that gets fleshed out with wacky happenings. With Stardust though, it seems as if the filmmakers couldn't decide if they wanted to do a fantasy or a parody of a fantasy. It was as if they wanted to be faithful to the old fantasy themes, but they were afraid that the Hollywood jocks would call them out for being too nerdy - hence the "heh, isn't this wacky?" kidding-on-the-square mood throughout the film. And I think that's why there are simply so many 'types and 'tropes shoved into the ninety-minute running time. We get funny characters, deadly serious characters, plot twists into real darkness and then a near-broadway musical scene all without any breath in between.

Confusing and frustrating to watch as this was, it actually did make me want to read the book, simply to find out how much of the movie was simply made up or altered beyond recognition.

What the hell do these two flicks have in common, if not the rather depressing awareness that it is getting much harder to push the boundaries of visual storytelling nowadays? Perhaps self-conciousness. Or perhaps only the fact that they both begin with S.

Or maybe that they both made me wish I'd stayed home and read a book instead.