In 'No Impact Man', A Stunt To Save The Earth Colin Beavan, the protagonist of the documentary No Impact Man, spends a year living "eco-effectively" — eating only locally grown foods and, eventually, forgoing electricity and toilet paper. Critic David Edelstein calls the film a "21st-century climate-change comedy of manners."
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In 'No Impact Man', A Stunt To Save The Earth

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In 'No Impact Man', A Stunt To Save The Earth



In 'No Impact Man', A Stunt To Save The Earth

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A new documentary called "No Impact Man" follows a year and the life of writer Colin Beavan, who embarks on a radical lifestyle change and takes his family along. Beavan's book about his project is in bookstores now. It's subtitled "The Adventures of a Guilty Liberal Who Attempts to Save the Planet and the Discoveries He Makes About Himself and Our Way of Life in the Process."

Film critic David Edelstein has a review of the movie.

DAVID EDELSTEIN : "No Impact Man" is an environmental documentary that also works as a 21st century climate change comedy of manners. Its protagonist, Colin Beavan, is the latest in a line of idealist heroes who are both admirable and somewhat ridiculous, an Albert Brooks sort of character. In 2006, the Manhattan writer came up with a book proposal: He would live for a year, quote, "eco-effectively." That means, he said, having zero net impact on the environment. So he stopped driving or taking the subway and biked around the city. He ate only locally grown organic food. He bought no clothes. For the last six months he turned off the electricity in his apartment. And he and his wife, Michelle Conlin, and their toddler Isabella lived in candlelight, trying to keep their food cold in an earthenware pot placed inside a larger pot.

A device supposedly used with success in Nigeria, but not in Manhattan. He did do one thing hi-tech. From an office outside the home he wrote a blog, which a New York Times journalist read, which lead to a mocking feature titled A Year Without Toilet Paper. Soon, Beavan was on with Steven Colbert, and cameras from "Good Morning America" were there to film him throwing the switch that shut off his electricity. It must have been a tight squeeze in that dark apartment with documentary cameras filming TV cameras. "No Impact Man" centers on a flight from technology, but directors Laura Gabbert and Justin Schein set it firmly inside a media circus.

Beavan's book, also called "No Impact Man" and just out from Farrar, Straus and Giroux, is a different experience. His voice on the page is deeply earnest. He writes things like: I became excited about the possibility of breaking through our socially endemic isolation and connecting to our community and to some larger sense of purpose as a replacement for the material things we'd be giving up. But onscreen, his wife Michelle makes a hilarious counterweight. Although it's not her project, she also has to live without lights or TV. She writes for, of all places, Business Week, and is an unapologetic materialist. Enduring withdrawal from her Starbuck's coffee, she incinerates Beavan with a stare. When the family strolls through the local farmers market and Beavan remembers what else he needs, her face is a study in revulsion.

(Soundbite of movie, "No Impact Man")

Mr. COLIN BEAVAN: Oh, you know what, are the worm people here?

Ms. MICHELLE CONLIN: What do you need the worms for. I don't know if I'm…

Mr. BEAVAN: Compost. Well, I was going to tell you about it after.

Unidentified Man: Basically the worms make it compost faster.

Ms. CONLIN: Honey I'm not into that at all.

Mr. BEAVAN: Okay we can talk about it.

Mr. BEAVAN: Michelle.

Ms. CONLIN: Yeah.

Mr. BEAVAN: Want to come to see the worms.

(Soundbite of laughter)

ISABELLA: (unintelligible)

Mr. BEAVAN: See 'em wiggling around in there, Mom?

Ms. CONLIN: Yeah. And how do you make sure that they don't get out?

Mr. BEAVAN: They can't get out.

Ms. CONLIN: Hey, is there no cover?

ISABELLA: (Unintelligible)

Mr. BEAVAN: Of course there's a cover (unintelligible).

Ms. CONLIN: Let's cover it up.

Mr. BEAVAN: No, Isabella is looking at them.

Ms. CONLIN: Okay - nature.

(Soundbite of laughter)

Ms. CONLIN: Mom doesn't really like nature, dad likes nature.

(Soundbite of laughter)

EDELSTEIN: If you see "No Impact Man" you'll get a big close up of that box of worms and later of the larva that hatch and infest, you can only imagine Michelle's face then. There's a dramatic arc to the film though, an opening out. Beavan sets off to report on the tons and tons of trash we generate. He interviews community gardeners, people who've attempted to be self-sufficient even in the urban jungle. And Michelle comes around. She tones up. She has an epiphany while working on an organic farm. She begins to feel more sure of this project, even as her husband is treated as a figure of fun, a limousine liberal.

Beavan's book was trashed a few weeks ago by Elizabeth Kolker in the New Yorker as a stunt, although she admits that Thoreau's sojourn to Walden Pond was a stunt, too. She writes, the real work of saving the world goes beyond the sorts of action that "No Impact Man" is about. Yes, and no. Both the book and the movie focus on one man, but the film demonstrates his strong impact on the culture thanks to media coverage, and by that I include the film itself. That he's not perfect, that he's sometimes even a self-righteous jerk, makes him a less intimidating bearer of the movie's message, that our modern way of consumption has become unsustainable.

BIANCULLI: David Edelstein is film critic for New York Magazine. Coming up remembering 9/11 with poet Robert Hass. This is FRESH AIR.

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