The Grey: A Snowy Thriller of Wolves Versus Survivors

A plane carrying oil workers crashes in the desolate Alaskan wilderness. With temperatures plummeting to thirty below and a pack of hungry wolves closing in, the surviving men rally around a seasoned hunter (Neeson) as they embark on a desperate search for salvation.

Liam Neeson, his face etched with sorrow, downs a shot in a bar before stepping out into the freezing air. He raises a rifle to his mouth, but a distant howl stops him. With a sob, he quietly goes to sleep. From this moment on, his emotional and physical journey will mirror the harshness of nature and the relentless pursuit of the wolves. However, the word “poetry” is no more applicable to “The Grey” than it was to last year’s “Sanctum,” where characters also recited lofty lines and met their demise one by one due to their own clumsiness.

Despite its potentially gripping survival theme, the film feels less like “Lost” and more like a “Final Destination” installment. The main attraction is watching modern man crumble under the pressure of an exaggeratedly vengeful nature. These wolves, each the size of a bear, seem to have no other purpose than to hunt down the oil workers who fell from the sky.

Behind the Scenes

Originally, Ottway was intended to be younger, with Bradley Cooper considered for the role.

Carnahan and Neeson previously collaborated on “The A-Team.”

The Characters

Unfortunately, with the exception of Neeson’s character, the survivors are so unlikeable that you might find yourself rooting for the wolves. In some instances, the wolves even appear smarter than the humans, or at least less idiotic. For example, imagine you need to travel downstream and are walking along the riverbank. There are trees and logs aplenty, and you happen to have a rope in your backpack. The problem is that some of you are too weak to continue, and the wolves are closing in. What do you do? The obvious solution: let’s sit our lagging comrade down on some rocks to enjoy the scenery before he dies. Rafts are for schoolgirls. The rest of you, battered and limping, can continue your race against the animals.

Neeson’s Performance

Notably, it’s hard to fault Neeson himself. He single-handedly carries this frozen construct, injecting meaning into the proceedings as best he can, occasionally flashing his signature squint at the camera. The awkwardness arises from the similarities between the widower character’s biography and the actor’s own life. The monologues addressed to his deceased wife feel uncomfortably intimate, as if you’ve stumbled into someone’s private confession or are unwillingly peering through a keyhole. But perhaps it’s just a feeling, and Neeson and director Joe Carnahan had no such intentions, simply taking a stroll through the tundra.