Dean Potter had a recurring nightmare that haunted him like a shadow: he was falling into the void and would wake up just before hitting the floor. He died thousands of times before he actually passed away, and when he did, it was exactly as his dream had foretold: he crashed into a rock at 100 miles per hour during a wingsuit proximity flight. Potter, an American, died in 2015 at the age of 43, having established himself as a star of free solo climbing and slacklining, as well as wingsuit flying taken to the extreme. The HBO Max documentary The Dark Wizard chronicles his life story over four episodes, and it is such an impressive production that, by comparison, the Oscar-winning Free Solo seems like nothing more than boring footage. It can also be said that no one, except for his very small circle of loyal followers, ever truly knew or understood his personality, torn between genius and the deepest darkness.
Dean Potter made a name for himself in California’s Yosemite Valley, the world’s climbing mecca in the shadow of El Capitan and Half Dome, a place where feats have traditionally been fueled by colossal egos, alpha male behavior, testosterone, childish rivalries, and tight-knit male cliques. In short, a more primitive than human environment. Potter reigned supreme between 2000 and 2010, until Alex Honnold came along and dethroned him. The Dark Wizard meticulously captures the high points of his era as a star climber thanks to a crucial piece of information: Potter’s sister gave the production company his personal journals, which form the backbone of the series, along with the raw testimonies of his former (and who later ceased to be) friends, as well as his two partners: Steph Davis and Jen Rapp. Potter was the first to seriously consider the possibility of free soloing El Capitan, and he set to work until he discovered that the fear of dying in the attempt would be an insurmountable obstacle. He searched for the easiest lines on the wall, but even then he was never able to fully commit, bare-legged, to his daring project. That’s where his inner torment began, or perhaps it simply intensified the battle between his expansive self and his darker side.
It was Honnold who made history by free soloing El Capitan in 2017, two years after Potter’s death. But Honnold is like a cyborg who expresses no fear whatsoever in the Free Solo sequences, who doesn’t allow himself to express his emotions, and who transforms a life-or-death situation into a simple matter of concentration and performance. Potter, on the other hand, less strong, less self-assured, a prisoner of doubt, a prisoner also of his own persona, is able to reach the very mouth of terror, to the limits of psychological torment, to die a little and return to life against all odds. The incredible thing about The Dark Wizard is that these suffocatingly intimate moments are recorded and possess an authenticity never before seen: Potter, unable to execute a move on the wall, imploring the cameraman to throw him his rope so he doesn’t perish; balancing on a 40-meter sling stretched taut over the void, without a lifeline; Gasping in front of the camera, eyes wild, terror in his gaze as he jams his fingers into the cracks of the rock, trying to stay alive at least a little while longer.
Honnold is one of the key figures in the documentary series directed by Peter Mortimer (who was also behind the brilliant The Dawn Wall) and is portrayed as an antihero: his true character had never before been publicly revealed. Honnold looks you in the eye, smiles with a disdainful smirk, and explains why he’s better than Potter, why he finds it so amusing to humiliate him without even speaking to him. Honnold dedicated himself to successfully outpacing all of Potter’s dreams, driving him to depression in the process. Honnold’s on-screen sadism contrasts sharply with his usual aseptic image, that of the athlete devoid of any expression of humanity. But Honnold is just as competitive as Potter — if not more so — and he knows that in Yosemite, stepping on the rock is the only way to be recognized as the best, the greatest of the moment.
Potter wants to remain on top, but at the same time, he hates himself for it. He hates that weakness born of ego, he hates not being able to be better, not knowing how to achieve peace, the satisfaction of being able to live his life without pressure or delusions of grandeur. He hates his fear. And this conflict begins to destroy him, plunging him into a vortex of foolish acts of genius, always teetering on the edge between life and death. He longs to be remembered as the one who went beyond the limitations of humankind, but he isn’t always able to transcend his own weaknesses. At times, he also aspires to be an ordinary person, devoid of grand ambitions… but deep down, he knows he’s deceiving himself, that the shadows that haunt him will always ruin the luminous moments his existence offers. Competing to be the best is both his driving force and a noose around his neck.
The Dark Wizard isn’t just a visual treat: above all, it’s a listening experience, as if there weren’t a single empty or superfluous line, and it makes the viewer secretly hope that everything will end well, even though they know reality is far more stubborn. The unbearably egocentric character from the first episode sheds his skin and finds a kind of serene happiness in a dysfunctional family and in the company of a tiny dog with whom he even performs several BASE jumps, an image that went viral at the time. Potter accepts that he will never be greater than Honnold, and he thoroughly explores his dream of flying with his wingsuit, a way to emerge victorious from his recurring nightmare: perhaps if he learns to imitate the crows, the nightmare that ruins his dreams will transform not into a fall towards his end, but into the magic of flying like a bird.
But deep down, everything in his life seems to be a smokescreen, a play written to confuse the viewer with a cocktail of hysterical adrenaline, free climbing, slacklining, BASE jumping, competitiveness, ego, and remorse. Potter isn’t an athlete with a manic desire to leave his mark, but rather someone who makes a spectacle of his life to hide his deepest desire: “To transcend hatred, jealousy, insecurities, all the negativity that holds you back in life.”
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