Russell Crowe, in complete control of his considerable talent, is featured prominently on the movie posters for "Master and Commander". There's an obvious reason for this: when the film was made he was just coming off a roughly hewn, glorious crowd pleaser ("Gladiator) as well as an incisive psychological drama ("Beautiful Mind") that pleased the few critics still unsure as to Crowe's talent. He was at the top of the A-list ladder. I'm sorry to dissapoint those movie watchers hoping for him to have ended his incredible streak of films with Peter Weir's latest, insular beauty but he doesn't. Instead, he emerges again as an actor of visceral and versatile glee in a story more than ready to accomodate him - and in some cases, outpace him. The movie, adapted from two of Patrick O'Brian's twenty volumes about men and boys on the seas in the 19th century, will surprise those looking for an action romp - heck, it surprised me - but by its conclusion the pure radiant intelligence and uncommon comraderie with which it was made will leave you more than satisfied.
Capt. "Lucky" Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) has been ordered by the British Royal Navy to chase down the French warship Acheron and take it at any cost. Aubrey, a captain of rugged discipline and brilliance, is more than willing to comply and his journey after his prey, a ship much more able in the water than his Surprise, comprises the entire film. Read between the lines though and the real story becomes clear: the film is an invitation to sit back and watch, as well as take part in the joys of life on the high-seas. You'll be able to practically smell the wet wood, and hear the jeers and laughter of the sailors as they go about cleaning, fishing, preparing for whatever life lies before them. And, every so often, you might hear the sounds of Aubrey's violin-cello duet with his friend - and the Surprise's surgeon - Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany). Bettany stands up to his co-star with wit and poise and his relationsip with Aubrey is the film's emotional core but his jostling with every soul residing on the tiny wooden box that is a sailor's home brings a certain sincerity to this character, as to Crowe's.
Only two major action sequences punctuate the 130 minutes that roll forth marvelously from the opening credits but boredom never, ever, haunts this keen and ravishing movie. What Peter Weir, who also wrangled the script together with John Collee, has nailed with precision and almost supernatural mimcry is O'Brian's eye for historical detail and unbridled energy for a geniune, page-turning story. It doesn't hurt of course that Weir is also willing to contribute his own unique brand of brains when it comes to isolation in a confounding, brutal world. Brought together, these two great documentarians of human beings brought to the fore of the World in all of its beauty have created a masterful cinematic journey; a sharp, great, well-made tale of honor and friendship that is as thrilling in its cannon blasts as in the dinner of ship officers.
I can't say quite enough how much I enjoyed this movie but the nagging thought that the quiet power of the middle act is out of step perhaps with the overriding tale of revenge and war-making still irritates me. Yet, I stand equally in awe of the fact that Weir has managed to transplant O'Brian's historical adventures to the screen and furthermore transfigure it with his own distinctive style and put forth to all an exciting yarn that is, just as its two stars, a marvel.
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