James Gray’s latest mesmerizing film is a testament to the varying uses of white male ego, a piercing look at the glories and pitfalls of Western civilization’s colonial fascination. In an era rife with European empires searching the indigenous world for sites ripe for exploitation, The Lost City of Z is focused on a man searching for proof of a hidden civilization, possibly even more regal than the one we were accustomed to. Gray’s film is based on the best-selling book by David Grann, and tells the very common tale of man’s obsession with searching out the grand treasures of ancient societies. The tales of conquistadors vanishing in the Amazon searching for the riches of El Dorado predated English Army Major Percy Fawcett, but that did not stop him from becoming completely consumed with finding a city he called Z (Fawcett’s use of the ‘Zed’ pronunciation gives the film’s title a tad more glamour than just reading it suggests). Gray gives Fawcett the biopic treatment, but it does not prevent him from crafting an exquisite, bracing film about the nature of man’s search for meaning.
Charlie Hunnam plays Fawcett and it’s the first time that I’ve found Hunnam to be anything other than underqualified as a leading man. As Fawcett he is surprisingly subdued, and does not play up to the obsessive nature of Fawcett’s quest. It is the opposite of Klaus Kinski’s portrayal in Aguirre, the Wrath of God, which was Werner Herzog’s brutal portrayal of the search for El Dorado. Gray and Hunnam instead decide to show Fawcett’s torment as internal. His sacrifices, of which there are many and all of them sizable, are clear. Hunnam does more in his scenes outside of the Amazonian jungles, where the dreadful longing hangs on his face with every second he is not searching. He searches not only for a luminous city, but he also searches for proof that men outside of the known empires can achieve great things. He wants to shatter the close-mindedness of British colonialists. As an outsider of English aristocracy, he searches to stake his place in the world by proving those above him wrong. Like anyone else, he searches for his own escape from mortality.
When first presented with the opportunity to travel to Bolivia by the head members of the Royal Geographical Society, he is warned of the dangers that face him. He’s asked to aid in helping cartographers settle border disputes between Bolivia and Brazil, to ensure separateness between various rubber plantations throughout the area. As a military man with no actual combat experience, Fawcett would prefer to put his Army rank toward service and not map-making. But when the RGS offers him a chance to gain back the privilege of his family name (short allusions are made to the downfall of his father and the shame it has brought him), Fawcett cannot turn down the opportunity to pull his family out of societal exile. He knows it means years away from his wife, Nina (Sienna Miller), and their son Jack. Nina mentions before he leaves that she will soon have his second child. Fawcett is joined by Corporal Henry Costin (Robert Pattinson), a willing partner with a tendency to drink, and Arthur Manley (Edward Ashley), a young skeptic turned follower when greeted by Fawcett’s wisdom and skill.
As Fawcett and his men complete their mission, they find pieces of pottery, artifacts of civilization where there was thought to be only a vast expanse of savages. He returns to England, pleading with the members of the RGS to let him return, that he can discover his City of Z and prove that there is a sophisticated world unknown to Europe and America, that may even surpass them. He’s met with bafflement and fierce criticisms. How could one claim a possible equality between English society and savage Indians? Fawcett plans to shatter the prejudices of those around him, to show the precision and talents of those who live throughout the jungle. He gets the support of James Murray (Angus Macfayden), a famed explorer who traveled with Shackleton in Antarctica, who wishes to see Fawcett make his discovery. But Fawcett’s one-track mind begins to create rift in his family, from Nina who he refuses to allow to join (his hatred of prejudice doesn’t appear to effect his own limitations of thought on gender), and Jack who’s resentment grows as Fawcett’s absence sustains. As Fawcett’s family grows, and through many trials – including the First World War – he continues to see Z as the main point of his life.
James Gray has earned a reputation as one of the country’s top formalists, a meditative master who specializes in the inner torment of men. His previous two films, Two Lovers and The Immigrant, featured Joaquin Phoenix at his quiet, brooding best. Both films looked extraordinary, accentuated by the tight, rumbling tone that could fill you with dread, even while everything you saw was beautiful. The Lost City of Z is Gray’s stab at a more classical cinematic experience. Hollywood films have always held a fascination with the great explorers from centuries before. Their journeys are perfectly suited to the kind of majesty that movies can provide. The Lost City of Z is a meticulous examination of the cinematic epic. Watching it recalls George Stevens’ Giant or Warren Beatty’s Reds, studio films that contemplated the utter vastness of our world, while still focusing on a singular narrative. Z does not prescribe to the same spirit of manifest destiny as those other films. Fawcett’s journey is, at its core, a noble one, even if it is driven by a need for self-purpose.
This might be the best James Gray film that I have seen. With cinematographer Darius Khondji, he has crafted something so spectacularly stunning, a patient, understanding film that manages to both show appreciation for indigenous peoples and shine a light on the achievements of colonial era exploration. The Lost City of Z is one of the few films to really understand just how incorrectly the white men were who journeyed to unknown lands, propelled by the greed of empires and the arrogance of aristocracy. At the heart of Gray’s script is a story so universal, so common. A man pushes for the doing of the right thing. That same thing he searches for is the very thing that will bring he and his family meaning. Fawcett does have an obsession, but that obsession is not what Gray is purely interested in. Instead, it is the duality of man’s nobility along with his self-servitude that marks The Lost City of Z‘s uniqueness. It is a film unlike any epic you’re bound to see these days.
Written for the Screen and Directed by James Gray