he Sean Penn-directed Into the Wild begins with an epigraph taken from Lord Byron’s poem, “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,” and ends with an effusive thank-you to writer Jon Krakauer, upon whose non-fiction account the film is based. In between the literary bookends a deceptively complex picaresque tale of idealism and existentialism plays out, held together by a non-linear storyline, a multi-faceted narrative method, and a young actor best known for a coming-of-age comedy about sleeping with a porn star (The Girl Next Door).

The plot is a simple one: Christopher McCandless, a young, idealistic, recent post-graduate from a well-to-do family reads the Romantics, Jack London, and Leo Tolstoy, casts off his worldly possessions and wanders out into the wilderness, Siddhartha/Buddha-style, to gain silent revenge on mediocre parents and to shun a sullied society. Like all cinematic wanderers, he meets some eccentric characters along the way and proletariat flirtations and small-game eating ensue. Ultimately, he embarks on his dream journey: a solo Alaskan sojourn. Thanks to Krakhauer’s hugely popular tome, most people know how the story ends, so it’s a credit to Sean Penn’s deft plot management that the film becomes neither a funereal dirge nor a proselytizing soap-box shout.

Whilst seamlessly moving back and forth through time, Into the Wild follows McCandless from the Alaskan wilderness back through two years of peripatetic adventures and forward again. Throughout, Penn and cinematographer Eric Gautier dole out apropos evocative images that subtly reflect McCandless’s state of mind and fancies. Landscape shots, from stunning Alaskan winterscapes to stirring desert vistas, have sharpness and scope that encapsulate his love for the natural. On the other hand, tense dinner conversations with misunderstanding parents are shot in shaky close-ups of soft light, while childhood flashbacks have a grainy, poor-quality video look. These understated touches skilfully frame the narrative, but never intrusively.