9) The Grey (2011)
Before The Grey in 2011, the filmography of Joe Carnahan consisted of Blood, Guts, Bullets and Octane (1998), Narc (2002), Smokin’ Aces (2006), and The A-Team (2010). That is, it was fairly safe to assume that Carnahan liked making action movies. A lot.
But The Grey really was, quite literally, something else. The core of this movie lies not in, well, blood, guts, bullets and octane, but in the despairing grief of John Ottway (Liam Neeson, reprising his relationship with Carnahan following his tremendous rendering of Hannibal in The A-Team) over the somewhat mysterious loss of his wife, and his reluctance to assume the leadership of a few men desperately trying to survive the vicious wolves – and the equally vicious conditions – of the Alaskan tundra, following a plane crash.
Although The Grey is undoubtedly a thriller of sorts, and the action scenes are important, the tone moves in a perfectly organic way between these sequences and a quietly reflective air as Ottway, who is moments from suicide at the start of the film, slowly embraces the words of a short poem written by his father in such a way that the closer he moves towards death, the stronger is his will to survive. The words themselves are powerful, and deserve being cited: “Once more into the fray, into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day…live and die on this day.” Carnahan’s restrained story telling throughout is simple but subtle – and elegantly handled.
Returning now however from our brief trip into whichever other weird dimension we just visited, Ottway’s journey finally culminates in the sort of brutal drama that Carnahan clearly loves, and admittedly does so well. But here, again, Carnahan remains out of character. Because we don’t actually see the very last scene. It is left up to the viewer to decide the outcome will have been.
Now the sole survivor of these horrendous circumstances, his last companion having just drowned in the most recent wolf attack, Ottway is lost, alone and – for the first time – clearly terrified. He screams at God to “do something,” yelling to the grey sky “f—k faith – earn it! Show me something real! I need it now, not later – now…I’m calling on you…” before finally dissolving into tears, and then quiet acceptance of the situation. “F—k it,” he says, quietly. “I’ll do it myself.”
He stumbles slowly on through the wilderness, the camera swaying and moving in and out of focus as Ottway approaches physical defeat. Eventually he reaches a clearing, where he sits and looks through the family photographs of the dead men, taken from the wallets that the survivors had been collecting as a mark of respect. He adds his own wallet to the pile. Then, as he looks up, he realises that this is not a clearing.
It is the wolves’ den – and the wolves are in it. The wolves start to advance, but the alpha sees them off. Ottway sees that ultimately, this only concerns these two leaders, rivals throughout the journey and now to the bitter end. Everything has led to this. Here, as Ottway contemplates the immediate fact of his death, it is revealed that his wife died of cancer. Drawing strength from the memory of her lack of fear, and set against Jamin Winan’s beautiful piano score, Ottway arms himself with claws of broken glass, and recites his father’s poem one last time. He and the wolf leap at each other – and the screen cuts to black silence.
A few critics felt cheated by this lack of conclusion. This is understandable – so many movies of this genre (and others) depend on a victorious finale, or even a devastating loss. But is brave of Carnahan to do neither. More importantly, the mystery of what happened in that clearing is part of the wider mysteries of the film. W
e know that Ottway finally stood up in the face of all his fears, past and present, but it is clear throughout the film that we are not meant to know if he survived or not: Even the words of the poem read “live and die on this day,” not “or.” There is also the question of whether his coming across the clearing was in fact God’s answer to his plea. Did God lead him here so that he could finally defeat the one true threat of the alpha wolf? Or had God abandoned him entirely to a cruel and painful death? We are not meant to know. (There is actually a very brief post-credits scene, but it doesn’t change anything).
What we do know, however, is that Joe Carnahan is a talented director, with a range far outside the sort of movies he is best known for. And that Liam Neeson has yet another very particular set of skills.