The most beautiful thing about James Marsh's man on wire is not the marvelous photography of a man confidently walking over the abyss between the twin towers, nor is it the reincarnation of the towers in a simple and uplifting story. What is most beautiful here is that the film-which centers around the most politically symbolic images of our time- stubbornly, if not explicitly rejects the ugly history and political reality of these towers and reasserts fantasy and splendor as the grandest things in life.
Indeed, the story is not about the World Trade Center, rather it is about Philippe Petit, a man whose life is a refusal of reality, the mundane, and the political. For him, the twin towers represent the finale in a series of tightrope walking challenges because at the time they were the tallest buildings in the world. The images of the towers, which showcase not only their extreme stature, but also their construction, represent for Petit and the world human achievement at its grandest, and ultimately, the obliteration of limits. Though one cannot help feel a lingering melancholy at the images of the buildings' construction, which of course, recall images of their destruction, the "build-up" -both to Petit's feat and of the towers themselves-is marked more than anything, by optimism.
Ironically, the aesthetic of the film provides a somber contrast to the sanguinity of the subject. The film is almost colorless, featuring a cast of characters dressed in black, as well as film-noir-style recreations of background events. The only exceptions are the gleeful scenes of Petit and his friends running through the French countryside in the seventies, when, let's face it, everyone wore orange. The choice to have the film be so visually somber I believe reflects on the one hand the intensity and courage of the project, but also, given that at times it is comically exaggerated, an unwillingness of the members of the team to take themselves too seriously.
Still, when we arrive at the end of the journey, and Petit quietly and magnificently steps out onto the rope on a fittingly colorless New York day, we cannot help but gasp. Up to this point in the film, the back-story, the characters and the motivations have been important, but in this moment, everything stops, and one just stares. All that matters in the final moment is the magnificence and beauty of the act, something which is so profoundly elegant. For everything else that this movie does, the image alone of Petit lying down on the rope and letting one leg dangle knowingly into the white gulf between the towers is enough to make anyone reel with astonishment.
This movie cannot escape its association with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, and it certainly benefits from the added intrigue provided by the tragic demise of the twin towers. However, as the crew recalls with spirited laughs their engagement in such activities as filming the interior of the towers, forging of ID cards and fooling of security personnel, we are forced to take ourselves a little less seriously. The film plays in a profound way with our standards of courage, art and accomplishment, with the backdrop of one of the most magnificent images I have ever seen on film.
-S
