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By Jack Moseley
On June 3rd, 2017, Alex Honnold approached the base of El Capitan, the iconic 3,000-foot-tall sheer granite cliff in Yosemite, and made history. In just under four hours, he climbed this stupendous rock formation without ropes or tethers. The New York Times subsequently described the climb as “One of the great athletic feats of any kind, ever” (Duane, 2017). Honnold’s astonishing ascent was chronicled in eerie detail by some of his greatest friends, culminating in the 2018 Oscar-winning documentary Free Solo. Almost instantly, this vertigo-inducing film gained immense popularity, bringing unprecedented mainstream attention to the sport.
This daring ascent, as portrayed in the documentary, transcends the boundaries of mere athleticism to delve into the human psyche's deep-seated need to confront mortality, challenge personal limitations, and seek profound understanding amidst life's inherent dangers.
The style of rock-climbing shown is known as free soloing–when rock climbers ascend without ropes or protective equipment, relying solely on their individual skill and mental strength. It demands total perfection; even the smallest of errors can yield fatal consequences. To date, 31 fatalities have been recorded on El Capitan, underscoring the peril of such endeavors, with five fatalities occurring since 2013 alone (Fimrite, 2018). Many critics attribute recent deaths to the community's growing focus on competition and individuals' attempts to gain social media fame by taking enormous risks.
With that said, I think that this film offers analytical insights beyond the obvious. Much of the film's runtime focuses not on the climb itself, but on its impact on Honnold’s personal life. This is especially seen through his relationship with his girlfriend (now wife), Sanni. Honnold’s motivations are constantly questioned by all who care about him, and for good reason.
Honnold's climb is a meditation on mortality. We, as a species, have always been obsessed with our own fragility. We often seek ways to challenge, and even defy it–especially as young adults. Free soloing, in many ways, embodies this ancient tug-of-war between man and mortality. Honnold's ascent of El Capitan is more than just an athletic achievement; it’s a philosophical statement.
Free soloing provides a visceral connection to the now. It strips away all distractions, forcing one to confront their existence head-on. While many of us go through life cushioned by routine, rarely facing the immediacy of our mortality, free soloing lays bare the raw fragility of our existence. Climbers like Honnold find solace in this intensity, where every movement is an affirmation of life. It's a realm where the commonly advised adage, "perform as if your life depends on it," is not a metaphor–but a stark reality.
As the audience, we're granted the opportunity to inspect the psyche of Honnold. Questions bombarded my mind after my first viewing. Why is Alex willing to risk everything? Is it for the thrill? The fame? Or is it a deeper, more personal pursuit to understand one’s own limits and, by extension, the limits of humanity itself? As a viewer, there is a certain paradox here. On one hand, I’m captivated by Honnold’s audacity and skill; on the other, I feel a strange sense of voyeuristic guilt watching someone so close to death. Should a long life be one’s ultimate goal? Or is it the quality, intensity, and richness of experience that defines a life well-lived? The film delves deep into these existential questions, using Honnold’s relationship with Sanni as a mirror to reflect his internal battles. It’s clear to me that for Honnold, the climb isn’t just about reaching the peak of El Capitan–it’s a journey into understanding himself, his fears, and his relationship with mortality.
Critics who view the film as irresponsible and reckless perhaps miss the broader picture. While free soloing is dangerous, it also provides a unique and unmistakably valuable perspective on the human condition. In a world where safety is often prioritized above all else, performances like Honnold's force us to wrestle with the fragility of life, and the lengths some will go to truly feel alive in the modern age.
Sanni, as portrayed in the documentary, becomes a symbol of the grounded world, of the ties that bind us and the fears that often hold us back. Her concerns, while valid, also underscore the sacrifices required when one chooses to dance on the edge. Their relationship brings into focus the age-old conflict between individual ambition and responsibility. On the road to excellence and personal fulfillment, what should one be willing to sacrifice? Is it justifiable to put love on the line?
The vast majority of us will never approach the degree of risk tolerance demonstrated by men like Honnold. However, watching Free Solo offers more than just a glimpse into the world of free soloing. It challenges us to acknowledge our limits–to evaluate our passions, and reflect upon the sacrifices we're willing to make in the pursuit of excellence. While we may not hang from sheer cliffs, each of us has our own El Capitan to face. Through Honnold's journey, one may infer that the true essence of life may not lie merely in its longevity; but in the depth, courage, and intensity with which we live it. Welcoming the lessons from such a narrative compels us to live more introspectively. Every moment we live and every connection we make has inherent worth. Embracing mortality is not about courting death–but rather drawing strength from our fragility.
References
Fimrite, P. (2018). Witness to death plunge of 2 climbers on El Capitan describes horrific final moments. San Francisco Chronicle.
Duane, D. (2017). El Capitan, My El Capitan. The New York Times.
Jack Moseley, of Glasgow, Ky., is a member of the McConnell Scholar Class of 2025 at the University of Louisville where he studies neuroscience and political science.