'A Walk in the Woods' review, starring Robert Redford and Nick Nolte

Tactless and stale, A Walk in the Woods fails to capture the roaming ardor of Bill Bryson’s acclaimed memoir. Despite the delicately defined rapport shared between our leads, Robert Redford as Bryson and Nick Nolte as his raspy, serpentine former acquaintance Stephen Katz, this soul-searching journey through the Appalachian trail never finds its identity. What once felt substantial and self-affirming is now completely stagnant and impassive. Then again, perhaps one doesn’t give such heavy-hearted material to the man who brought us He’s Just Not That Into You.

Redirecting Bryson’s 1998 book to the modern day, the film follows the New Hampshire-based author on the verge of a late-quarter crisis. Traveling throughout most of his life, and having penned his exploits in the process, he’s spent the last ten years in his quiet mid-America town working through his 50s with his wife, the ever-mindful Catherine (Emma Thompson). Those around him expect another book in his future, but such intentions are not in store. With a box set collection of his bestsellers hitting the shelves, he’s closer to settling down at this point than striking up more adventures, but his advantageous spirit is one he can’t wrestle away. Shortly after attempting the funeral of a nearby friend, he takes a stroll past the Appalachian Trail to clear his head but it merely jolts his inspiration, as he decides to hike it in its entirety.

His wife thinks he’s insane, and so do a number of his friends. Bryson’s spouse tries to scare him with grizzly reports she's printed out from the web, and though he may be startled, he’s assertive in his mindset. She tells her husband he can’t carry through on his plans unless there’s a companion in his travels, and finding someone crazy enough to follow through on his ambitions isn’t easy. But he acquires a partner, if not one he expected: Stephen, a washed-up alcoholic in recovery and long-lost buddy from his European days. On the whim, he calls hoping to tag along and, despite decades spent apart, Bryson agrees. The two wind down for the long path ahead of them, beginning in Georgia and working their way up from there. It’s a long and unforgiving road ahead, and they’re quick to learn this, but they persist on, discovering a little more about where they’ve been, what’s become of themselves and what they truly wish to accomplish with the final years of their lives.

Squarely aiming to please, Kwapis’ movie often takes the simplest and emotionally cheap roads he can take, only truly delving into something substantial in the last 15 minutes. With stale blowjob jokes and boringly kooky supporting characters carry the film through, this adaptation sidesteps Bryson from his own journey, letting those around him take the attention away from his story. Were his words accompanying this, maybe the transaction would’ve become more agreeable. But any refinery Bryson brought is lost in translation.

He’s stripped down to a plain, simple every-man seeking to find his sense of adventure again, meant to become more relatable in the process but losing the personality the writer brought to his own story. Bryson, in bickering and playing second-fiddle to an admirably unhinged Nolte, who does appear to be having more fun on screen than he’s had in ages, never truly gets to learn from his experiences or have the value of his lessons heard. In refraining from saying anything meaningful, the movie simply hobbles around without purpose, and when you’re telling a story about finding yourself, it’s often appropriate to figure out what you want to be.

Lethargic in its design, A Walk in the Woods is never truly satisfied with itself. It bounces back-and-forth from mildly crude comedy to pleasant cinematic comfort food, never quite establishing itself as adult or frank about itself. The humor is consistent, but only three out of every ten jokes land. Likewise, it’s ho-hum attitude doesn’t formulate any scenic beauty. Some fine landscape shots aid the movie well enough, but they often come so few and far between. It provides the visuals the text couldn’t, but Kwapis never seizes the opportunity to take advantage of his cinematic capabilities. There’s an intentional lack of zest or style, becoming as plain as an off-brand package of trail mix.

With that said, its carefree attitude does, at times, invite the open atmosphere which served the book well. Nolte, designed as a scene-stealer, fulfills the comedic and dramatic necessities of his wound-up character well. And despite his defining, decade-spanning leading man status, Redford works best off of others here, mainly Nolte, Thompson and, briefly, Mary Steenburgen as motel operator Jeannie. Given the chance to slow down and enjoy the moment, Kwapis's feature may be a little too mundane, but it's often appeasing enough. It doesn’t redeem as much as it rectifies a film that feels as long-winded and endless as the Appalachian, yet can’t save the movie from becoming anything more than half-hearted.

The carelessness brought in its presentation is made odd by knowing how passionate Redford has remained about the project for the past decade. A producer here in addition to portraying the author on screen, it’s hard to see what he fought to keep with these rights. He rarely follows the outline of Bryston's book, and his heart never protrudes. Despite the course language and the persistent sex talk throughout, namely by Nolte, it's persistently riskless. Favorless to a fault, it's entirely too clean-cut too, never once accepting any grim and grit.

At once too vulgar to be carelessly pleasant and too safe to divulge in its lewder tendencies, A Walk in the Woods never finds its way. A route, lukewarm and firmly mundane product with a lack of distinction or pride, it wonders down the roads most familiar without ever asking itself how it can be better than its peers. It never reaches the emotional or cinematic heights of last year’s Wild, even if it doesn't try to at times, and it’s hard to shake off Reese Witherspoon's success. The walk is one just too humdrum for one to truly enjoy, and also, quite frankly, a little lumbering too.