The Road To Patagonia

A remote, wild landscape. An open road. Two men driving along it in a van, with a friendly dog. Suddenly, the camera goes flying sideways as the van suddenly hits something and turns upside down. Don’t worry: the dog, Frankie, is fine, as are the men. But this little vignette, captured in Alaska, is the perfect taster for the adventure to come.

Matty Hannon is far from the first young man to be raised in relative comfort but find himself drawn to wild places, rejecting the structures of late capitalism in search of alternative ways to live. He’s not the first to choose his university based largely on the waves available to ride nearby, nor is he the first to seek to travel down the west coast of the Americas with his surfboard under his arm. But there’s something sweet about Matty. His enthusiasm is so genuine, his spirit so engaging, that we don’t need to be surprised by things when they’re surprising to him. Whether you’re young yourself and discovering all this for the first time, or old enough to recognise the way privilege and luck combine to keep him just on the right side of real danger, the film is a charmer, full of wonder at the world.

Matty may come from a comfortable background and sometimes be naïve, but he’s a quick study and willing to work hard. He’s a good listener, happy to give the same rapt attention regardless of the person speaking, and he has that most appealing of qualities, a real interest in learning about everyone he meets. His impulsivity and eagerness to explore may get him into trouble from time time – as when he discovers that staying on an island in the company of friendly villagers has not prepared him for staying in the tundra in the company of wolves – but it makes for good documentary fodder.

In the movies, a hero like this needs a love interest, and in due course we meet Heather, an ebullient young woman who runs a small organic farm in British Columbia, practising permaculture and agroforestry to meet the needs of her community. The two bond intensely until, in the long-studied fashion of itinerant heroes who realise they’re falling in love, he panics and hits the road again. Even at this stage, it’s clear that it won’t be the last time they meet, but there are many adventures ahead of him, from California to the Atacama desert and beyond.

On a motorbike or on horseback – with other, random horses trying to tag along – he travels through cities and sinister industrial developments, across beaches and along narrow coastal paths and forest trails. His hair and beard get longer and blonder. He meets amazing people and learns a little about Argentina’s bloody history. He encounters the paper mills and their plantations that threaten the Mapuche people. He takes ayahuasca and gets gradually closer to figuring out what matters to him most.

Though everything is filmed from his own route, which prioritises practicality over pretty views, the film still looks gorgeous – often more so because we are immersed in the landscape. Matty’s sense of wonder is infectious. His narration very much captures the moment, even when he’s recounting his own mistakes, and weaves in his developing philosophy about humanity’s relationship with the biosphere and how we might live more sustainably and happily. The result is a beguiling travelogue which makes a number of observations about the existential threats we face but still conveys an optimistic tone, looking forward to a future which remains full of possibilities.

Reviewed on: 25 Jun 2025