I watched Into the Wild this weekend. The movie is base on a book of the same title by Jon Krakauer. It is the story of a psychologically and emotionally oppressed tool named Christopher McCandless and his struggle to come to terms with his existence or belly button. I can’t figure that part out.
Atfer Chris graduates from college, he gives away all his money and takes off to Alaska. He doesn’t tell anyone. He just leaves. Are you kidding me? What a selfish prat! He doesn’t even call home to tell to his family. He leaves them to be heart broken and worry for two years. If I ever fly off the deep end and go off the grid I’d at least give my mom a heads up so she could sleep at night. Don’t get me wrong, there are times I’d love to pull this trick but not to head to Alaska or to contemplate my navel. I’d go do tight things like ride elephants in Thailand, walk on the Great Wall, and pee in the streets of Beijing.
So Grizzly McCandless heads to the Alaska wilderness with his books about how to be a real man. He shacks up in some abandoned bus so he can stick his finger up his butt to make sure he’s really alive or “existing”. Forget the story…let’s get to the point. After months of studying and philosophizing hippie Chris comes to the realization that “happiness is not real unless shared”.
Wow genius…it took you two years of traveling around the US and living in a bus in the middle of nowhere Alaska to figure that out. You could have knocked that lesson out in Genesis Chapter 1.
Grizzly McCandless eats some poison berry and dies in his bus. The end.