She dances, dispenses charming aphorisms, and cheerfully forgives the younger Strayed’s moments of arrogance and callousness. The death of her mother, Bobbi, weighs heavily throughout-and Dern is perfect casting for a challenging role, bringing dimension to a figure Strayed clearly regards as essentially magical. At first, they’re brief fragments, as if Strayed’s waving the memories off the screen, before allowing them to settle more fully later on. The film opens at the beginning of Strayed’s 1,100-mile trip, then occasionally dips into in scenes from her past. They make you viscerally connect with her sense of triumph and heartbreak as she makes her way through California and Oregon. Rather than simply having the viewer feel bad for Strayed, who is still wrestling with her demons as she pounds her body on a months-long hike she’s barely prepared for, Vallée and Witherspoon clearly want viewers to understand her. How Self-Driving Cars Could Ruin the American City Derek Thompson Her mother's specter haunts her throughout, occasionally taking the (somewhat clunky) metaphorical skin of a playful fox. Her toenails fall off, she's harassed by sexually aggressive bow-hunters, and at one point she loses her shoes and trudges along in duct-taped sandals for 50 miles. Following the loss of her mother, Strayed sets out to conquer the wilderness despite being a novice hiker. It has all the hallmarks of a weepy, clichéd tragedy-to-empowerment story. But Vallée pulls off a grander achievement: He conveys real catharsis in charting a woman (Reese Witherspoon) on a journey, scattering her memories throughout the movie in a way that manages to feel natural, rather than manipulative. Jean-Marc Vallée’s adaptation of Cheryl Strayed’s memoir about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail has plenty of raw material to lean on: the death of Strayed’s mother (played by Laura Dern), Strayed’s resulting descent into heroin use, and the disintegration of her marriage. It's not hard for a movie like Wild to make you cry.
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