Thirteen Lives Review

Thirteen Lives is, sadly, what Ron Howard does best. He imprints his stamp of dull perspective onto a brief media storm that impacted the lives of many. His adaptations often feel loose in tone and are expressed as though providing light on these modern disasters is his given right. Marking Thirteen Lives with the innocence of youth is easy when the locations, details and impressions are left to follow a biopic styling that removes sincerity from the picture. Constant updates on the time, location and people flash up on the screen, giving credence to the idea that Howard has no faith in natural pacing. Instead, he depicts chambers, places and people with on-screen labels, removing the chance sincere development.

Howard’s dedication to relaying every bit of information detracts from any chance of learning more about the men behind the rescue or the kids inside that cave, but Thirteen Lives cuts through with the important detail often. Howard hands over a completely competent but intensely empty feature. He sticks to the details with a rigid structure that better lends itself to documentary filmmaking. Thirteen Lives lacks emotion, attempts to blur political thrills in the swirling currents and never gets to grips with the people down there. They are shown as assets to be recovered rather than individuals, and it is down to Howard and the stringent tone Howard takes with the events unfolding. His dedication to the procession of events is not dull because of the commitment, but because of the comment and how it displays those days of fear for Wild Boars.  

Conveying this with a friendly, first-name basis for the divers inevitably dragged over, Thirteen Lives is a stuffy and claustrophobic piece even when outside of the cave system. Viggo Mortensen and Colin Farrell do well to hold this piece together, the bland English accents providing back-and-forth between the two in that quirky friendliness that drags professionalism through tiffs over custard creams before cutting to life-saving operations. Claustrophobic terrors dominate those moments and while the chemistry between Farrell and Mortensen leaves much to be desired, it is expectedly flat because it is Howard behind the camera. Echoed underwater segments provide the fear and the constant, dangerous possibilities that lead to panic at every turn. Thirteen Lives is worth watching for those moments of intensity, but it fails to capture much feeling.  

Thirteen Lives opens the political tension that underscores almost every disaster, rescue or catastrophe. It does so with little contempt for anyone, less of a statement and more of an observation. A feature that observes the facts, tells them with stringent and lacking variety but gets the job done and succeeds in historical accuracy. That much, Howard can be lauded for. Again and again, his films have inspired interesting true stories and propelled them to the big screen. But for Thirteen Lives, its lengthy documentation of Thailand’s political system, the sleeping princess that resides at the mouth of the cave, and the inevitable peaks of intensity come at a cost. They are, inevitably, pushing for a reflection on the lives of the men that saved so many, not on the many who were trapped and fighting for their lives.