WILD LIFE - Mark Reviews Movies

Wild Life, National Geographic Documentary Films/Picturehouse

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 13, 2023

Directors Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi don't try to hide their admiration for the subjects of their documentary Wild Life. On a personal level, that makes a lot of sense, because at least Chin has been friends with them for a number of years, as evidenced by the fact that he appears in footage as a participant in a couple of adventures. There's a lot more to the esteem the filmmakers have for the late Douglas Tompkins and his wife Kris, and by the time we've seen the two as a couple and as a pair of environmental conservationists, we come to respect them, too.

Chin and Vasarhelyi's film does become a bit too routine in its structure after introducing the widow Tompkins, who, after the death of her husband, lives on part of a vast swath of land the two purchased in Chile. This isn't an act of ego or some grand display of wealth, though. Tompkins, whose death in 2015 defines much of the tone and the approach of this narrative, was a multi-millionaire, but he was originally, according to Chin and other friends, among the first of the "dirtbag" climbers, surfers, and skiers, who lived with minimal means because that's all they needed. The point was to travel, to find and scale some out-of-the-way peak, and to continue that cycle out of love for nature and the rush of death-defying adventure.

Chin is a climber, too, in case that isn't clear from his appearances in the footage here or a couple of his previous documentaries, so it stands to reason that he would have learned about Tompkins, either through his assorted expeditions or by way of the climbing equipment company he founded in 1964. At some point, Chin and/or Vasarhelyi became friends with the Tompkinses, but however that relationship formed isn't the point of this film.

The filmmakers know to keep themselves out of this as much as they can, because there's still degree of neutrality they want to maintain in making the case for the sincerity and impact of their subjects' lives and work. The benefit of that relationship, though, is just how much access and honesty Kris has granted to Chin and Vasarhelyi, and if there's a flaw here, it's that the two directors might not take as much advantage of that as they possibly could have.

Instead, we meet Kris, learn of Douglas' death (Cameras are set up at a private viewing of his body at the couple's home and at the funeral service), and discover that the two spent the last 24 years of his life acquiring millions of acres of land in Chile and Argentina. Their plan was relatively simple—for someone with a couple hundred million dollars to spend—but revolutionary: That land would stay as it is, become a privately owned park, and, one day, be transferred to the governments and people of that country as protected land.

Most of this becomes the equivalent of a detailed obituary, as Chin and Vasarhelyi use archival footage and photos, interviews with Douglas' friends and colleagues (including Chin himself on occasion, in his capacity as having those relationships with the subjects), and an extensive account from Kris herself to tell the story of the man whom others admired and the husband whom only she knew. We hear about his climbing days—abandoning a "normal" life to head out west and look for adventure, making friends with other likeminded people, discovering a knack for business.

His business ventures expanded from a hot dog stand, which helped to fund climbs for himself and friends like fellow entrepreneur Yvon Chouinard (who would start an outdoor clothing company and inspire some philanthropy in his longtime friend), to selling equipment and starting a fashion line with his first wife. Meanwhile, Kris' own biography plays out in a less dramatic manner (She lived on a California ranch before befriending and working for Couinard—and before showing she had a lot of business acumen of her own), as her and Douglas' paths almost seemed destined to cross.

All of this is fairly standard in terms of narrative and filmmaking, but it's the personal touches, surely helped by the directors' connections to the people they're interviewing, that keep it compelling. Once the story shifts focus to the couple's decision to start buying more and more land in South America, it takes on levels of importance and purpose that extend beyond a routine biographical narrative.

This is far more fascinating, as Kris and, by way of interviews, Douglas detail the challenges of trying to preserve nature on such a large scale, while also noting that even their attempt amounts to very little from a planet-wide perspective. There are economic issues, especially in a country that has depended on agriculture and the export of natural resources, and political ones, and plenty of skepticism surrounds the very idea of an American millionaire buying land in a country that recently endured the effects of interference by the United States government in its affairs.

The film is wise to acknowledge all of this, just as it is ultimately worthwhile for it to spend so much time detailing the genuineness of its subjects' intentions and their private relationship. As we become invested in Kris' twofold motive for continuing her late husband's work (One wishes the film focused a bit more on her throughout, instead of keeping her on the sidelines until the third act), Wild Life becomes a call to action for preservation on a global scale, as well as a touching act of preserving the mission and memory of a conservationist, friend, and husband.

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