Fred Beckey is something of a myth, a legendary “dirtbag”—think
a vagabond ski bum for the mountaineering set—who sacrifices everything to climbing.
Normal people don’t know his name, but the hardcore speak of him with reverence
and awe. It’s difficult to live up to such hype, but when we meet the man
himself in Dave O’Leske’s documentary, Dirtbag: The Legend of Fred Beckey,
he more than lives up to the billing.
At one point, an ex-girlfriend—one of many—calls him, “A
different sort of creature,” and there’s no better description. Beckey makes
for perfect documentary fodder. He’s led a fascinating life and had a
wide-reaching impact, but outside of certain small circles and a specific
niche, he’s almost wholly unknown.
And he’s also a bit of a wingnut. While it recounts his
earlier years, Dirtbag also keeps up with his current life,
tracking him from his mid-80s into his 90s, where he’s still trying to summit
mountains and leave his mark. Even today, he talks a mile a minute, always with
an eye towards the skyline.
Singularly driven, starting as a youth in Seattle, Beckey
began climbing mountains and never stopped. He owns first ascents on peaks all
over the world and has climbed just about anything you can climb. But like any
obsessive, this comes with a cost. He never married or had kids; he’s left a
trail of burned bridges behind him; and watched colleagues, friends, and lesser
climbers become stars, get all the glory, and find success. Not that any of
that matters to him. For the most part, he appears perfectly happy and
satisfied.
Beckey is an iconoclastic outsider wholly by choice. Everything
in his life is second to the climb. There’s an enviable freedom to this way of
living, where he’s beholden to no one and nothing but himself.
Dirtbag features endless stories from friends about Fred
dropping everything to drive cross-country for an ascent or to find the next
adventure.
There’s an unbridled joy, but there’s also a lingering sadness.
Again, he’s paid a steep price. A meticulous note-taker—he’s written multiple
climbing guides and books—he lives surrounded by envelopes cataloging various
climbs, ascents, and routes. He has friends and well-wishers, but while it’s
funny to watch him scroll through his phone looking for his next climbing
partner, it’s equally heartbreaking to see him fail and realize how alone he is.
And while his mind remains sharp, over the course of the
film, we see age finally start to catch up with and overtake him. Though his
spirit is still willing, he continually, doggedly tries and fails to conquer
mountains, trails, and routes he could have done with his eyes closed in
earlier days. This takes a toll, and his heart is still in the game, but his
body simply can’t keep up.
Rebellious and uninhibited, Fred Beckey inspires and
frustrates, enthralls and confounds. It’s easy to see why he attracted people
to him like moths to fire for his whole life. He’s compelling, engaging, and
kind of a dick, and all of this makes Dirtbag, playing as part of the Seattle International Film Festival, fascinating
and entertaining as all hell. [Grade: B+]
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