Patrick Wayne Wanders the British Columbian Wilderness in The Bears and I

My heart is in the mountains today, as it has been every October 12th since Colorado icon John Denver, my favorite singer-songwriter, died in a plane crash on this day in 1997. It was with this day in mind that I recently watched The Bears and I, the 1974 Disney movie for which Denver furnished the theme song. I’d never seen it before, but I knew the natural setting would ease the longing for the great outdoors that becomes so acute this time of year.

The Bears and I, directed by Bernard McEveety, is based on the book Robert Franklin Leslie wrote about his experience living in the British Columbian wilderness and helping to raise a trio of orphaned bear cubs. Patrick Wayne, son of western legend John Wayne, plays Bob, our narrator and, for significant stretches of time, the only human character on the screen. He has a robust charm about him, coming across as self-sufficient and kind-hearted. More often than not, the inconveniences that come with this solitary lifestyle amuse rather than irritate him.

However, his good nature turns to ire in the face of cruelty, which seems to be a specialty of local ruffian Sam Eagle Speaker (Val DeVargas). He is the one who orphaned the cubs he takes in, and he continues to antagonize him throughout the movie. Bob does enjoy a good relationship with level-headed store owner Oliver Red Fern (Michael Ansara), though, and he yearns to get closer to Chief Peter A-Tas-Ka-Nay (Chief Dan George), whose son served with him in Vietnam before being killed in combat. The chief is hospitable but reserved in extending his welcome, and Bob’s adoption of the bears unsettles him; the bear is his tribe’s most sacred animal, and although he can see that Bob’s intentions are good, he disapproves of the idea of these majestic animals being tamed.

The movie basically has two primary storylines. The first is Bob’s decision to take the cubs under his wing and train them in the ways of ursine behavior so that they can survive on their own in adulthood. The second involves the fact that the government plans to make this area a national park and force Chief A-Tas-Ka-Nay and his people to move elsewhere. The resolutions to both storylines come at the same time, and while the first is believably bittersweet, the second seems a bit glossed over. Still, the movie seems to strike a good balance, showing the native population in a respectful light without entirely vilifying those behind the park project. At least they are looking to preserve the wilderness instead of paving it over, and in that respect, there’s common ground upon which to build.

Wayne makes a likable lead, though his narration is a bit dry at times. Still, the strongest performances in the movie are from him and George, who carries himself with melancholy dignity as the bereaved father afraid of losing his ancestral home. More potent than either of them, however, is the land itself, captured by cinematographer Ted D. Landon. The scenery is breathtakingly gorgeous, and in addition to the bears, we see elk, wildcats, wolverines and numerous other animals. Perhaps more than anything else, this movie offers an ideal opportunity to immerse yourself in a pristine mountain landscape and ponder whether you would be up to the challenge of embracing a lifestyle suited to the likes of Rubeus Hagrid, the burly Hogswarts groundskeeper who is my favorite character in the Harry Potter series. I have a cousin who’s managed it; I suspect I’m not that rugged, but every once in a while, it’s nice to imagine…

John Denver makes it all the more enticing with Sweet Surrender, the song of self-discovery that opens the movie and is incorporated into Buddy Baker’s score. Focusing on a theme that runs through much of Denver’s music, it expresses a desire for deeper self-awareness and a sense of malaise with the day-to-day rat race. This is a man who just wants to get away and carve out a life for himself in one of the wilder places of the world. The rambling, lackadaisical pace fits the tone of most of the scenes with the bears. As a Vietnam veteran, he’s seen a lot of ugliness; now he just wants a new start. “Lost and alone on some forgotten highway traveled by many, remembered by few, lookin’ for somethin’ that I can believe in, lookin’ for somethin’ that I’d like to do with my life. There’s nothin’ behind me and nothin’ that ties me to somethin’ that might’ve been true yesterday. Tomorrow is open; right now it seems to be more than enough just to be here today…”

The Bears and I isn’t without its flaws; even at an hour and a half, it sometimes seems as though it could have used some tighter editing. The pace is mostly plodding, and I’m not sure that the national park storyline works quite as well as the bear one does. Still, it’s a stirring story with an irresistible setting. I don’t know how it took me so long to see this movie, but it was the perfect way for me to settle my mind on the great outdoors during what always turns out to be a time of reflection. If you’ve ever heard the mountains calling your name, you should give this movie a try, too.