“In the Heart of the Sea” is not your typical fish story.
In the early 19th century, “civilized” societies relied upon whale oil — rendered from whale fat — to light their homes, streets and businesses. There was a burgeoning business in New England of hunting whales, the bigger the better, the greater the bragging rights. Killing these graceful, benign giant mammals is incomprehensible today but, 200 years ago, the concepts of conservation and animal rights were not as prevalent as today.
Whalers left Nantucket, struck east to the Azores, then south all the way around Cape Horn into the Pacific. They worked their way north hunting and provisioning along the Chilean and Peruvian coasts. Finally, they turned west into the limitless expanse of the Pacific where sperm whales were most plentiful.
Much of the drama of “In the Heart of the Sea” — based on the best-selling book of the same name by Nathaniel Philbrick — is drawn from the immensity of the Pacific Ocean, which is the real star of the film. Its span is more than three times the width of North America; its length covers the latitude of five continents; it has mountain ranges beneath its surface that exceed the Rockies; in some points it is many miles deep. To be cast afloat in these seas immediately suggests privation or worse.
Such is the background that begets this story of the whale ship Essex and crew. It is the tale of unusual fates at sea … and then of survival. The events spin a gruesome story. They are passed in flashback to the author Herman Melville 40 years hence by the Essex’ grown-old cabin boy (Brendan Gleason.) The tale became the basis of Melville’s classic novel, “Moby Dick.”
The published version of “In the Heart of the Sea” differs from the film. The book is more distinctly a story of the crew’s survival following uniquely aberrant behavior by a large whale. Nothing personal – the big whale sinks the ship, then moves on. The movie is all about the whale. It portrays a scary and vengeful monster of the sea that sinks Essex and is relentless in his attack many miles from the wreckage. This is Melville’s “Moby Dick” scenario.
The film version is more fun. That credit goes to screenwriter Charles Leavitt who effectively translates the setting for better cinema. It relies heavily on digital backdrops – large whales make poor actors – which take nothing from the film. The movie does fine work of portraying growling, snarling crewmen of Essex thousands of miles from home, of dangers from weather above and beasts below. Director Ron Howard brings the immensity and drama of the Pacific within the focus of a few men at sea, particularly Essex’ first mate, Owen Chase (Chris Hemsworth).
I loved the film for the unrelenting, thumping peril offered by the ocean. The story is contextual and I therefore excuse the immorality of hunting whales. In the end, the hunter and the hunted form an “understanding” built from mutual respect while the story is grounded on excellent action and fine drama.
