Hero shows superhuman eco-restraint
By Chris Garcia
Austin American Statesman
In a grand, nutty gust of do-gooder zest and steroidal asceticism, Colin Beavan chooses to make his life a living hell. He is the no impact man of the documentary "No Impact Man," a seemingly sensible fellow who wants to make the world a better place while making a buck.
With an eye on writing a book (and producing this movie) about his adventures, Beavan volunteers himself, his wife and their 2-year-old daughter to a bumpy journey to the Stone Age. They will, for one year, attempt to vaporize their collective carbon footprint and make zero environmental impact on the planet — an aim made harder given that they live in flora-unfriendly Manhattan rather than, say, California wine country. Extravagant self-sacrifice and the mantra "reduce, reuse, recycle" propel Beavan's experiment, which becomes a rather courageous if dubious tussle between idealism and realism.
You have to admire them, because Beavan, a professional author, and his wife, Michelle Conlin, actually, with minimal lapses, pull off a punishing stunt that would rocket the less hardy of us — no meat, no cars, no toilet paper and, egads, no TV! — to a soul-shrivelling state of solitary-confinement-like deprivation.
Under the new rules, the trio has to take the stairs to their ninth-story apartment (elevators are not green); they can't buy anything new; they can't use traditional detergents, plastic bags, disposable razors or anything else that creates waste; they can't take the subway, buses or taxis; and they can only eat locally produced food, which means no coffee and a preponderance of root vegetables and cabbage. They even acquire a worm bin for composting their food waste. And, at the six-month point in the experiment, they shut off their apartment's electricity, resorting to beeswax candles, creative refrigeration and frosty fall nights. Living this way is a colossal challenge, a daily reprogramming of an entrenched lifestyle that's to be admired if not emulated.
We haven't mentioned that Michelle, a star writer for Business Week magazine and an upscale shopaholic, is a quite reluctant participant in her hubbie's harebrained scheme, which he admits is just a gimmick for his next book. She's roped in, not uncomplainingly. She moans, she gripes. She occasionally cheats on the plan when she's out alone. Yet her optimism triumphs and, with the aid of crafty editing, her transformation from mulish uncertainty to placid, even enthusiastic acceptance is almost creamy.
"No Impact Man" is an uneasy viewing experience, often amusing and edifying but alive with questions about the purity of Beavan's intentions and how much of a difference he's really making. (Of course, his point is that we should all go militantly green for a radical reversal of the Earth's environmental ruin.)
A class issue is also on view. It's clear that the Beavans, residing in a nice if cozy apartment on Fifth Avenue, are financially comfortable, so they can afford to shop daily at the farmers' market and buy an arsenal of $10 candles and affix a solar panel to the roof and the like. Their privations become relative in this context; our sympathies are hard-won.
Directors Laura Gabbert and Justin Schein do what they can with the cinematically static subject, capturing Beavan, who does all the work and cooking in the house, as he performs a series of projects, makes trips to farms, gardens and the market. Mostly the cameras are stuck in the apartment, where husband and wife seem fixed in grumbly discussions about the logistics and hardships of the experiment. It's mild living-room drama, ready for a TLC reality show. The media-savvy couple contain their tempers for the cameras; there are no exciting blow-ups or huffy room exits. While his wife shows opinionated spunk, Beavan's a composed character, who, to his credit, never comes off as a self-righteous tyrant or an extremist twit. He's smart and grounded.
After seeing how little garbage the family produces, how healthy they're eating and how eco-evolved they've become, the subtext of "No Impact Man" is this: that by whittling life down to tactile basics you can swing open a new and invigorating way of living. It's a manifesto for change, yet on a more human level it's a study in enforced rectitude, extreme forbearance and elastic coping. People are pretty resourceful when they have to be, the movie says, or when they try.
