Bostick, Brad, and Stu spot a rare find in "The Big Year."
(David Frankel, 2011)
October 19, 2011
by Joel Crary
“Who doesn’t like birds?” narrator Brad Harris (Jack Black) asks as “The Big Year” opens. No one I know, or would want to. One summer a few years back I flirted with birding as a hobby. I invested in a pair of binoculars and explored a few parks and green spaces in Ottawa, especially the Britannia Conservation Area, home to about 250 different species throughout the year. I have pleasant memories of coming across a nest of White-Breasted Nuthatches, hidden away in a tree, and a large heron taking off from the waters of Mud Lake. Identifying them was half the fun. I gave up after building a measly life list of just under 20 species. After a while it was hard to find the time, and my interest waned.
The men in “The Big Year” are far more obsessed with birding than I ever became. Brad Harris juggles it with a full-time job as a nuclear technician. Renowned birder (don’t call them birdwatchers) Stu Preissler (Steve Martin) juggles it with a high-ranking CEO position that he can’t seem to retire from. Both are targeting the big year record of Kenny Bostick (Owen Wilson), set in 2003. Bostick saw 732 species that year, and rumour has it he’s intent on doing himself better. When January 1st rolls around, all three men hurl themselves into the woods, “binocs” in hand. Game on.
The rules: everyone works on the honour system. Hearing a bird’s song counts as seeing it. Numbers are recorded in little log books, which end up taking on the value of the idol Indiana Jones nabbed in the Peruvian temple. All birders have to stay on the continent. Each man has a special attribute helping him along. Stu has no sense of smell, perfect for garbage dumps, where other birders look like they’re about to keel over. Brad is good with songs, which in addition to aiding him in the field puts him in pretty solid with birder Ellie (Rashida Jones), who can imitate them flawlessly.
As the men gather at new locales to scope out rare species under perfect weather conditions, several other non-descript participants loom in the background with long lenses at the ready. Bostick seems to have an unholy sixth sense about where the birds will be. “Ever get the feeling you’re being followed?” he laments at one point, all but checking his coattails for hiking boot marks. As the year wears on, flights are booked, including one to Attu, the westernmost island in the United States – so far west that it’s closer to Tokyo than Anchorage, Alaska. Clad in neon colours and a decidedly non-camouflage club kid hat, Bostick rolls in like he owns the joint, which is an exceptionally niche thing to be proud of, to be sure.
All of this travelling costs a great deal of money; at one point, the men rush down to Texas to catch sight of birds during a hurricane “fallout,” shelling out cash for plane tickets as though they’re everyday nest material. Brad has his year financed by his mother (Dianne Wiest), who acts as his travel agent, planning his stays in hotels and tossing him new credit cards when the old ones max out. One common complaint among the men is how the hobby has ruined their marriages (and in the case of Bostick, possibly more than one). A moment of truth in which Bostick has to decide between a Snowy Owl and his wife (Rosamund Pike) is a bit much, but if you’re going to show obsession, perhaps it’s best to go all the way to Buffalo.
The film is based on Mark Obmascik’s book, which is a true story, but I’m guessing only kind of (especially after an opening placard that states the facts have been changed). Director David Franker and screenwriter Howard Franklin play the material for laughs, but not particularly big, huge ones, especially considering its cast. The collection of supporters is a rare find, with Brian Dennehy, Joel McHale, Kevin Pollak, Jim Parsons, and Anjelica Huston all tossing in their own brand of eccentricity. Franker keeps up the pace with flashy cuts and some amusing graphics, meant mostly to make these men seem as big as they think they are.
I appreciated the movie’s quaintness about things. Ill will only becomes so ill, with selective honesty serving as the main weapon. The locales on display are gorgeous, and fed that drive I used to feel to get back outside and fill out my list a bit. Everything winds up a bit hackneyed in the emotion department, but Black and Martin have good chemistry, and it’s hard to fault their good nature. Besides all that, I like birds. Who doesn’t?
