Going Out

BY SEAN BURNS

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “There are no second acts in American lives.” But that’s not so in movies, and the reincarnation that’s tickled me most is AARP-aged, Oscar-nominee Liam Neeson’s ascension to B-movie badass.

After playing the grizzled mentor to less interesting stars like Leonardo DiCaprio and Orlando Bloom before politely excusing himself to go die at the end of the second reel, Neeson had a fluke smash with the shamelessly entertaining Taken.

Now the star of Schindler’s List makes a habit of spending the snowy season beating the crap out of people in pictures that are exponentially more enjoyable thanks to his hearty presence, sly humor and grave commitment to even the thinnest of material. (Yes, I even liked Unknown.)

Arriving right on time for your midwinter fix is The Grey, director Joe Carnahan’s survivalist nightmare set in the Alaskan wilderness. There are two surprises here. The first: Neeson isn’t running around exotic locales knocking teeth out of Eurotrash baddies. This time he’s fighting wolves. The second: This is a damn good movie.

Neeson stars as Ottway, a brokenhearted man working for a crooked oil company, surrounded by roughnecks in the middle of nowhere. He keeps to himself, writing florid letters to a long-lost beloved that he never dares send.

But when their plane crashes en route to Anchorage, Ottway finds himself leading a motley band of survivors on a trek through nasty terrain. None of these men are suffering from the illusion that their employer cares enough to come looking for them, and the dwindling supplies and monstrous weather should be more than enough to do our boys in, provided they can keep from killing each other first.

Oh, and then there are all the wolves.

Luckily, Neeson once again plays a character with “a particular set of skills.” Ottway knows his way around the wilderness, and knows all too well about these fanged beasts he’s been charged with killing every time they set foot on oil company property. Suddenly finding himself prey, Ottway’s suicidal tendencies give way to a pure survivalist muscle-memory. If he’s gonna go out, it’s gonna be on his own terms, godammnit.

The Grey is a refreshingly no-frills tale of Man vs. the Elements, the kind of rousing outdoor adventure we haven’t seen since Anthony Hopkins, Alec Baldwin and David Mamet’s screenplay were stranded nearby in 1997’s The Edge. 

And like The Edge, I imagine this is a picture that will grow on me even more with repeat viewings. I honestly had no idea director Joe Carnahan had something like this in him.

Famous for helming mouthy crime knockoffs, Carnahan’s been responsible for Narc, Smokin’ Aces and was most recently sighted attempting to turn The A-Team into a big-screen franchise.

The Grey is the first Carnahan movie that could credibly be called restrained, recalling pictures like Deliverance by letting the visuals do the talking, instead of trying to assert his own annoying cleverness. This is a huge leap forward for a filmmaker I had written off many movies ago.

Of course it’d all be unthinkable without Neeson, here at the center of almost every frame, magnetic in his gravitas and grace.

Perhaps my favorite moment of Neeson’s career arrives when one of the oppositional tough-guys (played strikingly well by Frank Grillo) lets loose with a torrent of profanity before announcing, “I ain’t scared!”

“I’m terrified,” Ottway smiles, warmly. “No shame in that.”

It’s classic Neeson, with that winking Irish fatalism and incongruously soft voice. He’s so comfortable in his own skin that admitting to frailty looks like the bravest thing you could do during a He-Man measuring contest.

Then, later, he curses out God and fistfights a wolf. This movie is awesome. 

The Grey 

Starring Liam Neeson, Dermot Mulroney, Frank Grillo, James Badge Dale and Dallas Roberts. Written by Joe Carnahan and Ian Mackenzie Jeffers. Directed by Joe Carnahan. At Boston Common, Fenway and in the suburbs.