Similarly to George Clooney’s recent yawner The Boys in the Boat, Andrew Kightlinger’s adaptation of Donn Fendler’s true-story novella Lost on a Mountain in Maine is an example of old-fashioned, “traditional” filmmaking that wouldn’t feel out of place in the mid-1990s (or even the 1950s). On the one hand, it’s weirdly refreshing to see something so unabashedly quaint, so devoid of any current political agendas or ideologies; on the other, the Sylvester Stallone-produced film categorically lacks any surprises and frequently devolves into mushy melodrama. Still, as a family-friendly story of survival in the wilderness, it gets the job done… just.
Newport, Maine, 1939. Deep in the throes of the Great Depression, the Fendlers do their best to raise numerous children. The father, Donald (Paul Sparks), has no choice but to work constantly, leaving precious little time for things like fishing trips – which makes one of the sons, 12-year-old Donn (Luke David Blumm), ferociously resentful. Donald’s all tough love, though. When the mom, Ruth (Caitlin FitzGerald), confronts him, he simply states that the boys have to toughen up for the tough times ahead.
And so, in a father-son bonding attempt, they embark on a hike up the Katahdin mountain, infamous for its rapidly changing weather and treacherous terrain. Their tour guide, Henry (Ethan Slater), tells stories of a mythical, evil god with massive wings that haunts the mountain’s peaks. “Getting pretty choppy up there, I’d pick up your pace,” a bunch of returning hikers warn. Yet the angst-ridden Donn is undeterred by all the warning signs and, to spite his father, runs off, disappearing in the storm.
“Wolves howl and yap all around the young boy. His feet bleed. Bees attack him.”
Wolves howl and yap all around the young boy. His feet bleed. Bees attack him. Hunger and cold strike hard. But Donn also belts out Hallelujah in pure glee and bathes in crystal-clear waterfalls. In the meantime, his parents commence a widespread search. Ruth calls all the major national newspapers, and Donald forgets all about work and realizes where his priorities should lie, bankruptcy be damned.
Donn’s survival story is only mildly gripping compared to the dozens of similar films preceding it, and the fact that the outcome is evident from the start doesn’t help matters. Yet Blumm holds the screen with a by-turn joyful and intense performance. Complementing his plotline is the search. There was no GPS back then, no helicopters or radars. Kightlinger and writer Luke Paradise find compelling ways to show just how difficult it was to find a missing soul a little less than a century ago.
Lost on a Mountain in Maine boasts handsome production values, considering its indie roots: Idan Menin’s cinematography captures the splendor and danger of nature – oh, and we get to see panoramic views of the titular mountain from every angle. The film is at its best when it deviates from the formula, like in the flirting-with-surreal scene that involves the aforementioned winged god.
Sadly, the filmmakers seem to embrace some tropes, like the unnecessary slow-motion to purportedly up the ante or the cheesy dialogue (“I lost our boy,” Donald confesses. Ruth takes a beat, then inquires, “Which one?”) or Garth Stevenson’s swelling score letting us know how to feel. Which isn’t that hard to decipher in the first place – it’s all straightforward, with little depth and even less at stake. (I’m still trying to figure out Sylvester Stallone’s involvement in all this.)
Jaded, cynical folks like me may wish for a little more grit and a few more bold, unexpected turns – both plot-wise and from a filmmaking perspective. Undemanding audiences looking for beautifully shot, old-school, suitable-for-all-ages cinematic fluff will likely find plenty to enjoy here.
"…jaded, cynical folks like me may wish for a little more grit and a few more bold, unexpected turns"
