The Mountain Between Us

1. The Mountain Between Us is Grade-D bunkum with the good fortune to have actors working their hardest to sell it like Casablanca. Its characters are thin, its story is ridiculous, it has no sense of scale or gravity and its most emotional moments tend to come from cuts to double-takes from a dog. It is an airport-paperback cheeseball romance in its basest, most obvious form, the sort of movie whose simplicity and ludicrousness serves as escapism in that it is a clear departure from any recognizable human behavior or motivation, as science fiction as Blade Runner without the spaceships but plus a lot more shots of lovers staring longingly at each other. But: It also happens to have two of our most charismatic movie stars—two people you just cannot stop looking at—playing two grown adults who try to have a grown adult romance. It’s the sort of film where you stare at them as long as you can … until you start rolling your eyes again.
2. Photojournalist Alex (Kate Winslet)—she’s such a photojournalist that she still uses a darkroom—is trying to get home from an assignment for her wedding the next day when her flight gets cancelled. Frustrated and desperate, she convinces a fellow stranded traveler, a neurosurgeon named Ben (Idris Elba), to hop in with her for a small private plane through the Utah mountains to Denver. They hire a pilot (Beau Bridges, looking a bit catatonic) to take them through a storm, but let’s just say that if you ever have the opportunity to take a two-seater flight with an old man who lets his dog ride in the cockpit with him, you should probably just go ahead and tolerate standby on Delta. Inevitably, the flight crashes, the pilot dies, and Alex and Ben have to learn to survive in the frozen mountain wilderness … and of course learn to love in the process.
3. The movie is a crock from the get-go, the stilted sort of movie in which one guy is a brain surgeon because he is cold, clinical and logical and the other character is a journalist because she’s reckless and impulsive, and the vast majority of their dialogue exists solely to illustrate that fact. (Sample dialogue: Him: “I’m a neurosurgeon because all we are is our brains.” Her: “But what about our hearts?” Him: “That’s just a muscle.” Her: [frowns] Audience: [groans]) Neither Alex nor Ben is a human being so much as a construct meant to tell limp lessons about following your heart, which, frankly, seems a little beside the point when you’re stranded in the freezing Utah mountains with nothing to eat for weeks on end. (The dog still somehow finds food without, you know, becoming food.) It also doesn’t help that director Hany Abu-Assad, who made Paradise Now and makes his English-language debut here, can’t quite ever convince us that Ben and Alex are truly in peril. They mostly look like two movie stars taking brief breaks away from their catered tent atop a mountain. He can’t quite get the scope of the disaster and of their isolation right; you never get the desperation of, say, James Franco in 127 Hours or even Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Honestly, they don’t even look that cold.