Film Review: The Grey

Liam Neeson’s career trajectory has always been one in a perpetual state of genre gymnastics. Dancing between critic pleasing fare (Schindler’s List, Nell) and schlocky action-packed diversions of varying quality (Taken, Rob Roy and the less said about The Phantom Menace, the better). His post-Taken ‘punches everyone’ rap has seen him rechristened as something of a born again action star. In fact, Neeson all but passed up the opportunity to fill the size 13s of the 16^th President of the USA in Spielberg’s upcoming biopic ‘Lincoln’ (a central role now occupied by Daniel Day Lewis). The Grey sits oddly on the fence of Neeson’s recent output, its DNA most reminiscent of the tough-guy bonding pictures that put Walter Hill on the map.

Obviously the genre switcheroo is a little on the nose (Deliverance via Jaws etc). The film itself embeds itself within the 70’s wilderness survival trappings right down to the quasi-philosophy (‘once more into the fray’…) and the moral ambiguity that permeated the post-Nam psyche. After directing 2010’s limp A-Team adaptation, it was clear that Joe Carnahan needed to get back on his feet and sharpish. Setting course for the B-movie route never fails, foolproof thrills that are only screwed up by the man at the helm.

As a whole, The Grey suffers from droll pacing and a surplus of interchangeable, bickering roughnecks who all seem lucky enough to have either families, kids or that special someone to yearn for. Neeson’s character Ottway is plagued by flashbacks of his beau of a lady, shot in idyllic sunset hues bathed adoringly in angelic-blah blah blah. So far so cliché, so cliché in fact that the Ottway’s homebound predicament seems overly clinical in relation to his professional one (a wolf poacher contracted for population control, once he’s trapped in the wilderness it’s no wonder the wolves are pissed). Ottway needed a greater and tangible sense of desperation; the closest we get to genuine inner turmoil is mostly wrapped in unhelpfully enigmatic voiceover. The supporting cast gradually become more identifiable the plot thickens, but they too are saddled with worn out character tropes. As characters themselves, they are not much more than a blur of rugged machismo (wait, Dermot Mulroney was in this?!).

Other than its other faults (hokey CGI wolves, frantic wolf attacks comprised of dudes getting razzled by frantically thrashing wolves and frantically thrashing camera shakes, the result being rather frantic) The Grey certainly has more smarts behind it than would be expected after Liam Neeson’s recent role choices, but the film lacks true emotional heft due to an inherent emptiness in its core philosophy (‘keep fighting on’ yeesh). There is the appearance of substance, but none to truly speak of.

6/10.