403 – Man on Wire (***1/2)

A boy sits in a dentist’s office in Paris. Bored out of his mind, and with a toothache, he flips through one of the magazines – a new one, oddly enough. His eyes alight on a picture of the yet-unbuilt twin towers of the World Trade Center. He stifles a fake sneeze. rips out the photo, and dashes out the office and down the street. A lifetime dream is born!

For six years, Philippe Petit planned to walk a tightrope between the Towers. He practiced and practiced and ruminated and contemplated every angle, every facet of what was later called the “artistic crime of the century.” It would be tough enough to walk across the 140-foot chasm between the giant buildings, 1350 feet in the air, but there were myriad logistics concerns as well. How would Petit and his team get into the buildings? How would they get their equipment to the top floors? And most importantly, how would they get the cable from one building to another? (It’s not like they could just toss it…)

Director James Marsh takes an interesting view at the Petit spectacle: He presents it to us in the same vein as a bank robbery, the story of which is told after the fact by the robbers. Yes, this is all highly illegal – and Petit was indeed arrested when he came off the wire – but the tale of his escapades is fascinating, even a bit exhilarating. One thing that strikes you in particular is the absolute concentration on Petit’s face. He makes it look so easy up there – he practically dances on the slim wire – but his look tells you he’s all business.

Imagine the drive you’d have to have to hatch a plan in your formative years and then follow through on it many years later. Petit practiced in France in an open field, he walked between the towers of the famed Notre Dame cathedral, he walked across a tall suspension bridge in Australia. The man worked hard at perfecting his craft, all the while analyzing the problems of getting to use said craft at the top of a very, very tall building.

Imagine this, too. Imagine that someone like Petit got this same idea in his head in 2008. Imagine that this fictional dude decided he was going to rapel down the side of the Washington Monument. So he goes to the top of the structure and camps out there, eluding guards, then at daybreak he manages to open a window (don’t think he could, but imagine) and go to work. How long before he’s picked off by overzealous Homeland Security officials? And another problem that Petit ran into was a guard stationed on the top floor; Petit and his partner had to hide as unmoving blobs under a tarp for some hours. If a guard found a couple of odd-looking guys at the top of an important-looking structure like the Washington Monument – and guys who spoke only heavily accented English – he might be inclined to shoot them on site, and there’s no way they’d be let off the hook with community service, as Petit was. So times have changed since 1974.

It’s really great to see old pictures of the Towers – they weren’t even completed when Petit made his famous eight walks – rising majestically above all of Manhattan, New York, the country, the world. Nearly eight years after they were destroyed by terrorists, it’s sometimes tough to remember how awe-inspiring – and inspirational – they were. Marsh, thankfully, doesn’t mention anything about the terrorist attacks of 2001, doesn’t note that the towers are gone but not forgotten. Which is just as well, because it would seriously distract from Petit’s story.

It’s also a lot of fun to see these aging Gallics reminisce about their one day in the spotlight. Marsh doesn’t talk about anything that happened after that one day in New York City; he instead lets Petit himself exuberantly set up the premise and the follow through of their great caper, with a lighthearted approach that gently balances the danger and fretfulness of Petit’s grand promenade.

***1/2

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