Soon will reach its centennial, J.B.L. Noel’s pioneering documentary of mountaineering is restored to its mint condition by the BFI National Archive, THE EPIC OF EVEREST is the official record of George Mallory and Andrew Irvine’s fateful 1924 British Mount Everest expedition, and the sole fact of the film’s own existence should be hailed and venerated as a tremendous cinematic triumph.
Unthinkable of bringing the entire film-making apparatus to the Everest region at its time, whose nature environs (with its rarefied altitude and gelid temperature) alone seriously challenge the preservation of film stocks, to say nothing of how the team can operate the actual filming process, THE EPIC OF EVEREST solemnly and preciously lifts a corner of the veil off the insurmountable Mount Everest to the eyes of its safely ensconced beholders (color-tinted magnificence evokes a particular otherworldliness which can perfect define the epithet “early filmic”), dutifully takes snapshots of the exotic Tibetan clans and tribes whose members’ primitive smiles are always a boon to any world-weary soul, yet, very little information is given to the actual mountaineers, we only get glimpses of Mallory and Irvine, among others, in fleeting moments, for obvious reasons, no interviews are presented.
In exchange, the film lavishes explanatory inter-tiles on its audience, but the timing seems problematic, by putting each inter-title before the shot it elucidates, it eases a viewer’s mind of sussing out what is on the screen, but simultaneously, makes the viewing experience less spontaneous as the preconception precludes any attempt of proactive figuring, it is advisable if the inter-tiles could have been placed after their respective shots. Moreover, when the expedition finally starts their hazardous scaling against a vast wilderness and imposing glaciers, often in conjunction terrible weather condition, the film is subsumed into a one-trick pony, constrained by the nature of the filming equipments, only long shots are taken, lonesomely and statically gazing at yonder, where small dots can be seen as those fearless pioneers trudge along, almost to an animation effect against its expressive canvas, so for those who really want to know all the minutiae of the expedition, what THE EPIC OF EVEREST can offer is slim pickings, but if you can relate to the film’s romanticism undertone (especially in its afterthought), the rationale behind those gallant, death-risking quests, the film could be your ambrosia.
Thoroughly accompanied by the original score part-compiled by Frederick Laurence and Eugene Goossens Sr., by turns minimalistic, rousing or spooky, THE EPIC OF EVEREST is the spiritual father of both future sub-genres of documenting nature’s primeval forces and human’s indefatigable resolve to conquer the unconquerable.
