Phil Gottlieb

My wife and watched The Snow Walker recently, a 2003 Canadian survival film directed by Charles Martin Smith and based on a short story by Farley Mowat, a Canadian writer and environmentalist. This movie was assigned by our film instructor for several reasons including its breathtaking cinematography and solid acting by both a young but established Barry Pepper and an even younger Inuit, Annabella Piugattuk, who had no experience at all except for the essential fact that she had the skills of a native hunter and the knowledge to survive in the frozen world of the Arctic Circle. However, this is not just a movie about survival but, more importantly, transformation. Kanela (Piugattuk) teaches Charly (Pepper) how to survive, yes, but she is also the catalyst for his metamorphosis as he becomes a better human being—more patient, kind, empathetic, and ultimately grateful for a chance at a more meaningful life. I wondered, though, can an individual really transform this much since we first see Charley as a hot shot, arrogant, Top Gun type character, self-centered and insensitive to those around him. Quite a change! But I think extreme challenges and stressors can do that-- if we have the potential to change in the first place. That potential or seed is often planted within us at an early age by a family member, a teacher, or a friend—someone close to us who recognized our possibilities and made us listen. Charley could not have made such a transformation without that voice, and while in the film this individual isn’t specifically identified, it might very well be his employer, Walter Shepherd, played by James Cromwell. It’s clear that Walter (“Shep”) is protective of the young Charley and sees something good in the reckless young man. But for some of us, our positive and inspiring messages—and their sources—are easy to recall and come to us without effort—like old friends. Some might be relatively current, and some we might access from our childhood. It could be that the farther back we reach, the more fundamental the message and the more iconic or archetypal the origin. A loving grandparent, for example—or a much older boss--might be that person more so than a mother or father. Kanela has not only her ancestors to guide and comfort her as she suffers through the ravages of tuberculosis—still to this day a scourge among the Inuits—but the natural world, as well, is a source of her strength and inspiration. She finds solace in both realms, and as her life slips away, her tears are of regret for what might have been and for the love she feels for her land, her people—and Charley. The camera tells the story here, and dialogue becomes secondary as we are visual witnesses to the true meaning and power of grace and gratitude. Who inspires us? Who reminds us of our strengths? Who are our role models for grace and gratitude—and for whom are we role models? The answers to these questions keep us resilient as we face a more and more uncertain world.