Rehash. Recycle. Revisit. Repackage. Reboot. The English language has a veritable plethora of words suggesting the traversal of familiar terrain, perhaps because there are so many aesthetic products that do little else. The latest permutation in the Star Wars franchise is no different despite its absurdly bloated critical acclaim, having precious few qualities to recommend it other than, I suppose, its comforting predictability.
Few films have more hauntingly portrayed Mother Nature’s simultaneous beauty and brutality than The Revenant, an austere man-versus-nature saga set in the untamed wintry wilderness of early-nineteenth-century America. With grit, finesse, and a fine eye for photographic detail, director Alejandro Iñárritu brings to life a survival story whose blood-drenched imagery indelibly imprints itself in the imagination, its visceral realism rarely failing to get beneath our skin despite a few far-fetched plot elements and, at a little under three hours, a somewhat-too-leisurely running time.