Ah, Wilderness!

By J.C.

In the latest episode of the ongoing series Richard Harris v. the Elements, our hero appeared as a white man taken captive by a cantankerous band of Sioux Indians. He was abused, mocked, beaten, left to scrounge for himself outside the tepees, and finally strung up by his nipples. Impressed by his tenacity, and the resilience of his pectorals, the Sioux initiated him into the tribe.

Harris is still hanging in there. Those earlier diversions--which were packaged under the title A Man Called Horse --were games at summer camp compared with the exquisite natural tortures that he endures in Man in the Wilderness. This time he appears as a trapper named Zachary Bass, who roams the Pacific Northwest during the early 18th century. The film has barely begun before Harris is attacked by a grizzly. Badly mauled, Harris is left for dead by the other members of his expedition, under the command of salty old Captain Henry (John Huston). He vows revenge. After virtually resurrecting himself, he hunts up some food, whittles a crutch, constructs a spear and strikes out overland in search of retribution.

The film cuts back and forth between Harris' escapades and the efforts of Captain Henry and crew to get their boat to water before winter sets in. The whole business is well directed by Richard Sarafian, and Cinematographer Gerry Fisher's camera transforms the landscapes into looming, threatening presences. But the result is still a combination of Herman Melville and the Boy Scout Handbook.

Huston stomps about like a cut-rate Ahab, pursued by the Furies and haunted by his guilt over abandoning Harris. He could have spared himself the heartache if he had only seen A Man Called Horse. Then he would have known that the redoubtable Harris would persevere admirably, in the best Saturday matinee adventure tradition.

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