It's been more than a year since Cheryl Strayed released her gripping memoir, Wild, about her solo 1,100-mile trek across the Pacific Crest Trail. The book is a New York Times bestseller for a reason, so if you haven't read it yet, do it now. Strayed's tale is gripping, and the honest look at herself as a person throughout her painful hike (literally painful—the speed at which she loses toenails makes me cringe) is refreshing. So when I found out Reese Witherspoon, one of my favorite actresses, would star in the film adaptation, I may have shrieked with joy.
The movie is in theaters now, but if you need more convincing, just watch:
Now, everyone knows the film version is rarely as good as the book, but I honestly think those working in film are stepping up their game. And while Witherspoon has a lot to live up to, I think she can handle it. Director Jean-Marc Vallee (Dallas Buyers Club) fortunately doesn't make us sit through two straight hours of a girl lugging a 50-pound pack through the woods, but rather bounces back to the story of why the heck this woman decided to go it alone. And believe me, that's a twisted story you want to know about. I've only seen the trailer and I already see a myriad of awards in Reese's future.
But more importantly, go see Wild because in a world of men in badass lead roles (I'm looking at you, Interstellar—although there are some phenomenal females there too), there's now a strong, albeit unlikable, female in the mix doing something physically—not to mention mentally and emotionally—trying. For me, it serves as a little reminder that I don't have to follow the crowd, and I can conquer a crazy-hard trail, and all that that comes with, just as well as any man.
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