So Alex dies a death most grisly (hey-o!) and ends up as bear chow in pretty short order. This is where things really get interesting; what happens next suggests a sort of feminist undercurrent in the film. It’s probably the last thing anyone signing up for a nature-attack flick would expect, but bear with me. (Two for two!) The poor choices Alex makes in the first hour all stem from a central need to assert his masculinity. He refuses the map because he loves the idea of being able to rely on his natural tracker’s instinct as a man, then delays the admission that he’s gotten lost, for the same reason. But after Alex royally fouls up what could’ve been a delightful camping excursion, Jenn proves far more capable without her boyfriend weighing her down. Alex almost laughs off the ranger’s offer of a first-aid kit—the minute he doubts they’ll need it, their fate is sealed—while Jenn later fashions a tourniquet and stent from the materials at hand after she gets mauled. For the horror fans who enjoy getting analytical, Backcountry can be read as a feature-length deflation of the male egos that come out to play when matters of nature are at hand. 

I’d like to reiterate this one last time, and I really can’t stress it enough: Bears are so scary. Going outside is overrated.