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UK/Canada 1998
Reviewed by Richard Falcon
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
1936. After Native American trapper-turned-author Archie 'Grey Owl' gives a lecture on conservation, newspaper reporter Cyrus Finney asks him about an Englishman called Archibald Belaney.
Two years earlier, Archie is performing a war dance with a group of Native American performers. Anahareo Bernard, an assimilated Mohawk whose real name is Pony, asks him to take her to the Mohawk reservation. Against the advice of her father Jim, Pony accompanies Archie on a breaver-trapping expedition. Archie rescues Pony when she falls through the frozen surface of a lake. He later expresses worries that the beavers are becoming scarce due to the activities of the timber industry. Ignoring Archie's protests, Pony adopts two orphaned beaver kittens as pets. Pony and Archie become lovers.
Taking his pelts to the Hudson Bay Trading Company Post, Archie has a run-in with two unscrupulous trappers. After he gives a lecture about preserving the beaver to some tourists, Archie is invited to take up residency in a mock trapper's hut in Prince Albert national park. His articles about the wilderness are reprinted around the world. Millionaire publisher Harry Champlin commissions a book from him which is a big success.
On a tour of England, Archie stops off in Hastings to pay a visit to his two aunts who raised him. In the US, Archie receives the honour of a ceremonial audience with a gathering of Native American chiefs. The Sioux chief realises immediately that Archie isn't a Native American. Shunned by the white establishment when they learn of his English origins, Archie delivers a lecture about the importance of conservation before returning to the wilderness. In 1938, he dies of pneumonia.
Richard Attenborough's latest liberal-conscience adventure biopic has two significant advantages over its epic predecessors. First, the film's true-life protagonist Archibald 'Grey Owl' Belaney, while a talismanic focus for a certain brand of North American environmentalism, isn't as well known as some of Attenborough's other subjects. Second, this latest attempt by the director to conflate the personal, the political and the mythical is essentially a drama revolving around questions of authenticity. Grist to the mill, one would have thought, for a director whose work has often been criticised for failing to explore with sufficient depth such overexposed historical figures as Charlie Chaplin, Mahatma Gandhi and Winston Churchill.
Archie's bluff - he was a Hastings grammar-school boy so besotted with Native American culture that he uprooted to Canada to live as a Mohawk - is a rich point of departure. But Grey Owl limits its story to the period from 1934 to 1936, when Archie transformed himself from a trapper into a writer, lecturer and conservationist under the influence - or so the film tells us - of his young Native American lover Pony. The logic of this is clear: it allows events to be structured around a love story. And there is an enjoyable irony in accessing Archie's world through a Native American character who knows far less about "the old ways" than the Englishman. Pony is introduced wearing jodhpurs, the somewhat spoilt daughter of a wholly assimilated businessman (a nicely shaded cameo by Graham Greene). But neat and tidy as the old ways of such Hollywood narrative economy are, the screenplay by William Nicholson (Shadowlands) leaves a great many questions unanswered: how, for instance, did Archie become an adept trapper, and how did he first meet the Mohawks, who are his friends as the film opens? Instead of exploring such potentially interesting issues, Attenborough gives us a ready-made, ruggedly individualistic hero, a plum role for his star Pierce Brosnan.
Attenborough relies on loving sequences of cute furry animals, notably the two orphaned beaver kittens which Pony adopts, to advance Archie's conservationist cause. To his film's credit, moments in Grey Owl rival Gladiator in its mainstream reflexiveness about its audience-pleasing techniques: as Archie lectures wealthy tourists, for instance, he clutches two beavers, realising if the visitors won't respond to his words, they will to the sight of the animals; later we see him introducing film of the beavers at play to delighted audiences on his British tour. But while the film's green message, encapsulated in Archie's slogan that we are the planet's servants, not its masters, is unimpeachable, the film is so enamoured of its outdoor spectacle that at times it feels as if Attenborough would have been happier making an IMAX documentary.
This said, Brosnan is excellent in an unlikely role and the film abounds with genuine pleasures: director of photography Roger Pratt's shot of the tepees on the plain at night, lit from within like Chinese lanterns, gives you a sense of the romantic appeal the Canadian wilderness must have had for young Archie and goes some way to explaining why he left Hastings to live there. Then there's his return to Hastings where he visits his maiden aunts, a small gem of Alan Bennett-like understated insight. As the two old ladies reveal they have kept his room exactly as he left it, they add an apologetic rider: "I'm afraid we had to throw away the dead snakes."