Throughout, Penn masterfully manages the storyline, infusing it with unexpected humour and moments of his trademark gut-wrenching tension (see Mystic River). Employing two voice-overs (from Chris and his sister, Carine (Jena Malone)), and on-screen letter/journal writing, he circumvents the detrimentally straight-ahead road-trip film format, instead creating a vibrant and cohesive non-chronological tapestry of events.

Befitting the Byron-sponsored shot of romanticism at the outset, the film is rife with pastoral symbolism: birds fly and herds run. Conversely, airplanes and their vapour trails slice through even the remotest skies – save for a single shot (guess when it comes). Even Chris’s de-facto wilderness home, his “magic bus” (i.e. a dilapidated municipal vehicle) acts as a reminder of civilization’s boundless reach, ultimately defeating the young idealist.

Emile Hirsch, in a star-making turn, plays (impending spoiler) doomed, would-be Thoreau and latter-day Romantic, McCandless. Despite a bevy of stellar supporting turns, Into the Wild ultimately rests on the shoulders of its young star, and Hirsch turns in a performance of Gosling-proportions (that’s good). He’s affable when he needs to be and his idealistic moments never feel contrived or didactic. Unless one has a volleyball to talk to - and Hirsch does not - solo sylvan living can make for duller-than-Gore viewing. However, his charisma, easy rapport with fruit (specifically an apple) and, later, his pathos, keep monastic moments compelling.