By Eric Kohn

Sean Penn’s third outing as director ends with the tragic death of a lovably free-spirited hiker just shy of his 25th birthday, but it was still the feel-good movie of the year. If that clichéd hyperbole actually means anything, it surely belongs alongside Into the Wild, the wondrously naturalistic, gloriously life-affirming adaptation of John Krakauer’s novel that’s now available on DVD.

Some people were put off by Penn’s decision to treat the solemn tale of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch)—who, in 1992, abandoned his family after college graduation for a cross-country journey that culminated with his starvation in the Alaskan wilderness—as a grandiose saga. There’s a definite argument against Into the Wild for portraying McCandless as some kind of messianic entity rescuing the neglected idealism of Thoreau and his ilk, but that critique involves a certain amount of projection on the part of the spectator. As Krakauer points out on one of the DVD extras, the author himself took a similar journey as a teenager, solely for self-discovery. His own experiences lead him to understand McCandless’ impulse as not one of inane ideology, but rather a personal longing to escape societal entrapment. That’s the central pulse of Into the Wild, which reflects its ill-fated protagonist’s carefree philosophy and respectfully acknowledges the flaws of his intentions.

Penn’s screenplay gives McCandless a youthful blend of anarchy and white guilt. He gleefully anticipates “getting out of this sick society,” and stupidly burns his money. Material possessions? Fuck ‘em! The simplified mentality predicates his downfalls—anybody can see that—but the movie is designed to embody his radicalism so that McCandless’ intentions are married to the conceits he idolized. His parents represent everything he considers wrong about the world—which is what leads to his shortsightedness. “I think careers are a twentieth-century invention,” is one of his verdicts, as though his nonexistent resume would justify such a conclusion.

There’s a tad too much sappiness to Penn’s design (a ton of overwrought slo-mos and voiceovers, not to mention Eddie Vedder’s conventionally upbeat soundtrack), but the ubiquitous gaiety is not unmotivated. Into the Wild has a gorgeous, uncomplicated design; it could have been made 30 or 40 years ago. And that’s the point: Nostalgic for a simpler world that never existed, McCandless represents the timeless desire to escape reality.