The Walk

The Walk dramatizes the story of French high-wire artist Philippe Petit and his legendary walk between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. This is the third screen rendition of this true story, it was told first as part of the final episode in Ric Burns’ eight part PBS series New York: A Documentary Film (2003) and then in more detail in James Marsh’s acclaimed feature documentary Man On Wire (2008). Both of these movies utilize Petit himself excitedly recounting his tale to the camera with stills and archival footage and/or reenactments filling in the rest, so it’s rather astounding that director Robert Zemeckis and his co-writer Christopher Browne choose to tell their fictionalized version in the exact same way.  They present their Petit (in the form of Joseph Gordon-Levitt) standing in the Statue of Liberty’s torch with the towers in the background, telling us his story as if he were an actor playing a historical figure for tourists at a theme park. We never gain any understanding of the real man:  the kind of drive, arrogance, and self-determination that must be part of anyone who would undertake such a risky and illicit adventure. Instead, we get treacly exposition about his early years, covering his mentorship from a curmudgeonly old circus artist (Ben Kingsley), his fairy-tale romance with a beautiful fellow street performer (Charlotte Le Bon), and how he discovered the art of wire-walking and dreamed of using great architectural structures as his canvases.

The constant cutting back to Gordon-Levitt’s storyteller directly addressing us—his captive audience—and the accompanying voiceover narration, prevents viewers from fully entering into the narrative.  These interruptions reduce the wobbly first half into little more than an ornately illustrated picture book.  More crucially, they rob the more engaging second half of vital suspense and tension. We rarely feel like we’re with Petit during his daring illegal escapades: scouting the site, assembling his accomplices, rigging his wire between the towers under the cover of night, and then actually stepping out to perform his unprecedented walk.  It’s shocking that Zemeckis and Brown would choose such a lazy narrative device—I’ll go as far as to say it’s an unforgivably generic and cowardly way to tell the story of such a singular act of bravery and chutzpah.

However, at least when seen in 3D IMAX, the film unquestionably delivers on its promise of a thrilling cinematic experience. The special effects team recreates the Trade Center so effectively you’d almost believe the Twin Towers are still standing in lower Manhattan. When Petit first climbs up to the unfinished roof, steps on a protruding girder, and the camera swoops over his shoulder to reveal the 1,368-foot drop to the nearly invisible street, it takes your breath away.  I’m not especially afraid of heights, but I grabbed onto my seat and felt my heart stop beating at this and several other moments. The depiction of the actual walk is exceptionally beautiful and succeeds in conveying Petit’s conviction that wire walking is an art form, more akin to poetry than to feats of physical strength.  Of course, this sequence would itself be a whole lot more poetic without the persistent interruptions from our narrator.

I wish the French actor Dominique Pinon were young enough and famous enough to have played Petit, as h would have looked perfect and found layers to the character that Gordon-Levitt doesn’t even try for. Still, eager-beaver Gordon-Levitt, who studied wire walking with Petit himself, looks and sounds convincingly French and infuses his performance with the frenetic energy of the man. It is clear Zemeckis wants to use his protagonist as a vehicle for cinematic spectacle and is not interested in any kind of character study. This unfortunately leaves The Walk a decidedly sub-par picture. I absolutely recommend seeing it for the sensational theatrical experience, but I fear it will lose all its power when not seen in 3D and IMAX. It’s hard to imagine why anyone would choose this movie over Man On Wire or New York: A Documentary Film to watch at home or in a traditional venue. The Walk is profoundly moving at times—its final line and image are heart-rending—but it’s more often a missed opportunity with shallow characters, simplistic sight gags, and fumbled suspense sequences. It could have been one of the greatest caper pictures of all time, but it is so inadequately assembled I can’t even include it on my list of the greatest 3D movies of all time—a list that’s still just four films long!