Free Solo vs. The Dawn Wall: The Impact of A Story’s “Big Question”
After the release of Jimmy Chin’s Oscar-winning documentary Free Solo, the world knows the name Alex Honnold, the first man ever to climb El Capitan –– without a rope. One of the most dangerous feats the climbing world had ever seen, Alex’s journey is captured with care, precision and extraordinary cinematography, so it comes as no surprise that the film garnered so much attention and praise. Yet, climber Tommy Caldwell completed a climb just as impressive only two years prior, captured in the documentary directed by Josh Lowell and Peter Mortimer entitled The Dawn Wall.
A route thought to be impossible, El Capitan’s Dawn Wall is a 3,000-foot tall sheet of smooth granite with almost no grips and some of the most difficult conditions in the sport. Caldwell was the first ever to climb this route which is viewed by many to be one of, if not, the most difficult climb in the world. On January 14, 2015, he and his partner Kevin Jorgeson summited the top of El Capitan after 19 days spent without ever setting foot on the ground.
Both Honnold and Caldwell are undeniably pioneers of the climbing world, having crafted legacies that changed the sport and the world’s perception of it. Honnold dared to do what no one else would, while Caldwell dared to go where no one else could. So, why did Free Solo receive an Oscar while The Dawn Wall didn’t?
Perhaps the stakes contributed to the drama, creating a more compelling viewer experience— climbing always presents dangers but doing it without a rope obviously raises the bar. However, filmmakers have long-been capable of fostering a sense of anxiety and anticipation without life and death stakes (2014’s Whiplash is a brilliant example of this). Regardless, however, The Dawn Wall did still present life and death stakes for the protagonist and was wonderfully thrilling so we must look to other factors. Perhaps the disparity in notoriety between these two films can be attributed to the cinematography. Jimmy Chin, director of Free Solo, is not just a filmmaker, he’s a photographer. He understands the camera and masterfully conveys scale in perfect balance with detail-oriented action. However, from a visual perspective, and by comparison, Lowell and Mortimer don’t fall flat. They capture beautiful sunrises, breathtaking landscapes, wonderful details of life on the wall, and compelling visuals of the climb’s harsh physicality. Another place that we can look would be the editing, but upon analysis, the structure of both documentaries is well-paced and enhances the climbers’ respective stories while easily allowing audiences to connect with them and their struggles. So what is it? If the distinction between these films can’t be found in their quality, nor the skill of their creators, it must be something closer to the heart of storytelling — something often overlooked and underestimated.
One of the most important decisions made by a filmmaker is what question their film intends to plant in a viewers mind. In Star Wars, we are asked if our heroes will put aside their differences to battle the Empire and destroy its most destructive weapon. In Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, we ask whether Batman will defeat the Joker by proving that the citizen’s of Gotham are morally good. In Good Will Hunting, we are forced to wonder whether Will can come to terms with his trauma to discover what he desires in life by learning to take risks. Though it is often viewed as inadvertent, “The Big Question” is, in fact, a creative choice. When filmmakers choose how to tell a story, they choose what viewers focus on, what deserves emphasis, what is shown or left out, and which piece of the story serves as the resolution to its conflict. By telling us where to look and defining what’s important, they subtly guide our perception. Our perception then informs the questions that we as viewers feel compelled to ask.
When watching The Dawn Wall, the main dramatic question presented to the audience is if. We ask if they will be able to finish the climb. We ask if it will come at a cost. We ask if they will have to make any sacrifices for this dream. Free Solo, on the other hand, asks its audience a very different and, arguably, more compelling question: why?
Was Alex Honnold’s climb theoretically possible? Yes. Free Rider, the route featured in Free Solo, was first scaled in 1998 by notable climber Alexander Huber. It has since been climbed by many others, including Alex who made his first free ascent of the route (climbing without any form of aid, where ropes are used for safety but not assistance) in 2007, completing it in a single day. Additionally, the climb featured in Free Solo wasn’t the first free solo climb of Honnold’s career. His first free solo climb came nearly 10 years earlier when he summited another iconic landmark at Yosemite National Park in 2008, The Regular Northwest Face of Half Dome. He followed this, almost immediately, with another free solo less than a year later, climbing Moonlight Buttress in Utah’s Zion National Park. By the time production began on Free Solo, Honnold was already regarded as one of the best free solo climbers in the world.
Despite his skill and preparation, there was a deeper reason that no other climber had attempted to free solo El Capitan before. Recognizing this, Director Jimmy Chin therefore chose to spend very little time focusing on the fact that Alex was the first to make the climb. Instead, Chin chose to emphasize what truly makes Honnold’s story fascinating: why does he want to? Free Solo isn’t designed to make us wonder if Alex is ultimately capable of achieving his goal. Throughout the film it is suggested that he is probably one of the only people on the planet who can. He doesn’t even begin his world-famous ascent until a full hour and 19 minutes into the film. By contrast, the very first scene of The Dawn Wall introduces us to its central characters when they are already mid-climb.
With Alex’s first pitch coming so late in the film, this moment can’t possibly serve as an introduction to the conflict. Instead, it actually serves as the beginning of the resolution. In total, the climb in Free Solo is featured for less than 13 minutes, a mere 12.75% of the film's total 100-minute runtime –– and from a film perspective, it works. By pivoting attention away from the climb itself, Chin provides a better opportunity to focus on Alex as a person rather than a protagonist. Spending less time on the wall means that we have more time to become familiar with him as a character. The better we get to know him, the more we wish to understand him.
Though Tommy Caldwell’s climb was arguably a bigger step forward for the sport, its presentation in The Dawn Wall gives us less to ponder. The big question of the film is simple and direct, and there is absolutely no shame in that. A story doesn’t need to be intriguing or mysterious to be interesting. We still root for Tommy, invest ourselves in his challenges, and feel proud of his accomplishments. Sometimes simplicity is what makes a story beautiful, but it can also leave us wondering what else there might be left to tell.
In his book, The Push: A Climber’s Journey of Endurance, Risk, and Going Beyond Limits, Caldwell talks of his personal battle with depression and suggests that this struggle had a role in his decision to make the climb. Focusing more attention on this would have been an easy way for the filmmakers to bring more emotive, deeper questions to our attention. However, to say that the filmmakers chose the wrong focus would be misguided. An important part of storytelling (especially in documentary film) is recognizing when sharing information can become harmful to the subject and anyone else that might be connected to them or their story. For a documentary filmmaker, careful distinction must always be upheld between “could have,” and “should have.” Perhaps the filmmakers recognized possible harm that could be inflicted if they spent too much time exploring Caldwell’s mental health. If so, they made the right choice. On the other hand, they may have simply believed that Tommy’s story deserved to be a story focused on triumph rather than trauma. If that were the case, they still made the right choice.
Both documentaries expertly pose their questions to the audience, but in Free Solo, Chin carefully and intentionally constructed the narrative to carry us through a sequence of questions that flow naturally, and with purpose. We question why someone would consider such a risky, dangerous feat. Then we wonder what that person is really searching for; what he’s in need of. Then, the film pushes us toward its final question. Free Solo isn’t really a film about climbing, it’s a film about a climber. It's a study of character. The big question that it encourages us to ask is one that we all seek to answer about ourselves in our own lives: will Alex find what he is searching for?
Ultimately, Free Solo isn’t a story about the limits of human capability. It’s about how capability can place limits on the human psyche. It’s not about what can be done, but about whether doing it will be enough. It’s not about triumph, accomplishment, nor success. It’s about whether or not our very definition of success is worth the risk, and if it will even be enough to fulfill us. Few of us will ever choose to put ourselves in a life or death situation dangling hundreds to thousands of feet above the ground, but through the big question of Free Solo, Chin offers an opportunity to empathize with a perspective that is alien to most of us, before inviting us to insert ourselves into that question — will we find what we are searching for? We follow Alex’s journey, cheer him on, and cry with him because his actions now answer that question for more than just himself. In the end, it is the question that Chin asks, and Honnold’s answer to that question, that won Free Solo an Oscar Award for best documentary feature of 2019: we can find what we are looking for.
— The featured photograph was taken by André Cook. His work can be found here: https://www.pexels.com/@andrejcook