FREE SOLO. Alex Honnold Laughs in the Face of the Void

It is the trembling of a soul in search of adventure—either fully embracing it with the heart or keeping it at a distance. High-altitude climbing without safety equipment is a realm of human activity that triggers heart palpitations and a cold sweat on the brow. Free Solo, the documentary by Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, proves, however, that these reactions can be elicited not only in those who climb but also in viewers. A story of obsession and fearlessness unfolds almost like a thriller, which explains its Oscar win and the high regard it commands among enthusiasts of great heights.

The documentary’s protagonist, Alex Honnold, is a man with dreams and goals. We meet him as he once again attempts something audacious—climbing “free solo” (that is, without any safety equipment) a 3,000-foot rock formation in a Californian National Park. If readers think nearly a kilometer of solid rock is not much, I encourage them to glance at any of Honnold’s photos—or at the eyes of his girlfriend. In them, disbelief, fear, and astonishment are painted, a reaction to how completely her partner has surrendered to this obsessive thought, giving the documentary a deeply personal dimension.

While this is the story of lunatics living among us, hard to restrain as they boldly contend with nature and human limitations, it is also a story told by those who watch them. We see a man whose surroundings try to stop him, and the only guarantee of success in this insane climb is that he remains emotionally unshaken to the very end—like the rock itself. Any mistake here can come at a very high cost.

The secondary narrative in Free Solo is the film crew, who also embark on the journey with Alex, accompany him in training, attempt to capture some intimacy, and, most importantly, serve as a point of reference in the search for rationality. If merely observing the feat is terrifying, what must it feel like for someone risking their life? Is this madness, or “merely” unprecedented courage? The growing tension works beautifully in the narrative, as the crew realizes that the “lone climber” exists in a heightened-risk category, and many such attempts have ended in death.

So is it worth interrupting the whole mission and joining those who try to dissuade Alex from this idea? With so many questions, our fists clench throughout the screening, and when it becomes clear that the climb will happen, the emotional intensity becomes almost unbearable, while the question of why it’s all happening becomes the least important. We adopt the neurologists’ perspective, who note during brain scans that the part of Alex’s brain responsible for fear and defensive reactions is nearly silent, and the pleas of his girlfriend are insignificant compared to the news of other climbers who have perished. He listens to them with little emotion, leaving the viewer to decide how to judge this feat. There is little choice—one must ascend the solitary mountain with him.

Chin and Vasarhelyi’s work is a blood-chilling documentary that could serve as a powerful artillery piece in the debate about how one lives out their personal story. In the world of daredevils, artificially elevated levels of adrenaline and dopamine are walked through by many people, halfway to an Alex Honnold, best judged from a safe distance, on a computer screen. One could call such people reckless, even argue that only someone with cognitive impairments could so easily risk their life. At a certain point, however, judgment is abandoned, and Free Solo becomes a pure account.

Thanks to stunning cinematography, the crew’s diligence, and a sensitive camera, the reasons behind it all cease to matter. What remains is only the void beneath one’s feet and the man who has chosen to mock it.