Iron Will

Hold on to your balaclavas! This movie is one heckuva dogsled ride. Using a tried, true and traditional Disney formula, Iron Will follows a turn-of-the-century, North Dakota farm boy on the journey of a lifetime -- a race from Winnipeg, Manitoba to St. Paul, Minnesota -- 550 wild, ice-bound, treacherous miles. No smirky adolescents, no razzmatazz pyrotechnics here, just good, solid, boy-and-dogs-against-nature-and-bad-guy excitement. There are few hard edges to this movie. Early on, Will's father dies in a sledding accident (for once, in a Disney picture, it's not the mother who meets an untimely and heartwrenching demise) and there is no attempt to prettify the weathering effects of sub-zero temperatures on human skin. But, even without the obvious title foreshadowing, there is never any real doubt about who is to prevail in this test of wills. Instead, the glorious action footage and spectacular scenery set pulses racing. The camera setups and fine sound effects put us right there at every downhill schuss, every careening corner slide. This is the Iditerod without the benefit of Thinsulate or Gore-Tex. It is the blinding light of snow-encrusted wilderness and the murky shadows of firelit frontier cabins. It is the exhilaration of speed and competition and the bone weariness of too much exertion and too little sleep. It is the quest for a dream against odds of age, experience and ruthless enemies. It is the stuff of which children's fantasies are made. Or maybe not just children. Two short hours after I entered the theatre, I left it, embracing the crisp Texas version of winter air. Driving home with all the windows down, I, for once, relished the bumps on South Lamar and leaned into the curves along Pease Park and, home at last, gave my trusty, tired old Honda a grateful, affectionate pat on its overheated hood.