Worth: $17.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Michael Angelo Covino, Michael Corvino, Gayle Rankin, Judith Godreche
Intro:
...primed for after-viewing debate...
There seems to be a real disconnect, as far as discussing films at least, when it comes to talking about less-than-likeable characters. Mainly, that the mere existence of such characters in the lead, even if they are the nucleus of the story around them, is enough to write off a film entirely; the backlash towards Gone Girl is a great example of this in action. Now, it can be easy to disregard such takes as not taking everything shown into account (or, in snootier terms, “you just don’t ‘get’ it”)…but then there comes a film like The Climb that really tests that idea.
The relationship between the main characters, Mike (Michael Angelo Covino) and Kyle (Kyle Marvin), is phenomenally unhealthy, and to an extent, the film is perfectly aware of it. As an examination of what tethers people together, whether it’s platonically, romantically, or as part of a family you’d willingly stay connected with, Covino and Marvin’s script covers a lot of ground on what can turn a friendship into the social sadist/masochist dynamic seen here. Mike is the epitome of self-centred, almost like a spoof of how cyclists are perceived by motorists, while Kyle is the selfless provider for others that can easily be taken advantage of by the wrong influence. They’re perfect for each other in the worst way possible.
It carries a plentiful sense of dark humour about just how screwy this pairing is, especially with how their respective partners are involved, which combined with the predominantly French sensibilities in the soundtrack, pacing and subject matter (in a single scene on a ski lift, it outclasses the recent comedy Downhill) give a certain grounding that the film is aware of how dire this situation is. Except even it doesn’t seem sure of what to do with that information. As buttery-smooth as the pacing is, by film’s end, it feels like a grand gunpowder trail, snaking its way through all these gorgeous landmarks, leading up to an explosive finale… that turns out to be just more of the same trail.
There is one thing about this production that is never in doubt, though: it definitely looks gorgeous. Zach Kuperstein’s cinematography banks on a lot of long-take theatricality, adding physical strain to the social and mental strain the characters keep putting each other through, with the relative lack of cutting-away strengthening the connection between the audience and the subjects. There’s the odd moment of misbalance, where it’ll cut from a darkened cabin to a blinding field of snow, but as far as sheer visual storytelling, this is easily some of the best that 2020 has had to offer.
What this all adds up to is a film about relationships that gives a lot of observations, captured with breathtaking fidelity, that seem designed to make the audience question how they feel about the connections between the characters on-screen, and possibly even their own connections to people on this side of it. It’s a feature primed for after-viewing debate, but with how well-made and well-acted it is, it’s a film worth debating over.
