A grieving widow visits an isolated Minnesota lake filled with precious memories, only to become entangled in a bizarre kidnapping plot in this gripping crime thriller.
Travelling alone on a cathartic mission of remembrance, Barb unwittingly stumbles into a desperate plan to preserve one life at the cost of another. When she discovers a young suicide survivor bound in the basement of a snowbound shack, Barb promises to help her. One thing Barb doesn’t do is break a promise, and she digs deep to try to outwit a quirky couple driven to savagery by the spectre of terminal illness.
Shot beautifully and scripted with care and affinity, Brian Kirk‘s meditation on the simple pleasures of life versus the fickleness of death makes full use of its snow-caked setting. You can almost feel your skin prickle with the touch of the wintry air and your nose tickle with the crisp scent of frosted pines.
Emma Thompson is magnetic as the wholesome but resourceful Barb, who apologises for cursing but has no qualms in laying ruthless traps to cause death by hyperthermia. She nails the melancholy of a heartbroken woman who has lost her soulmate but refused to jettison her ingrained philosophy of perseverance and kindness.
Through subtle mannerisms and tonal consistency, she gives voice to an internal dialogue that feels both authentic and relatable. Remarkably physical and emotionally nuanced, her performance carries this icily efficient survival thriller on the shoulders of empathy.
Kirk tells Barb’s story through intense moments of present jeopardy, peppered with flashbacks of her life with her husband Karl, from the charming first date to his moving demise. Though brief, these historical snapshots are filled with warmth and detail, where moments of silence or mundanity conduct the exposition with grace and economy. It’s a stylish and emotionally resonant approach to character building that pays dividends when Barb’s sheer bloody-mindedness gives way to reluctant violence.
Judy Greer plays the nasty instigator of the kidnapping with druggy relish. Fucked up on pain medication, and never named in the movie, she is a drawling harridan sent to the edges of sanity by the jaws of mortality. Her doting husband is reduced to nothing more than a dipshit henchman facilitating her evil scheme, and her morals are long buried in the snow drifts of fear and suffering.
There are fascinating dynamics in play between the two women that make their conflict more than just a cat-and-mouse power struggle over a vulnerable victim’s destiny. Barb is compelled to feel sympathy for her assailant’s plight, and Greer’s character is forced into begrudging admiration for the feisty older lady, throwing shrewd spanners in the mechanics of her last chance saloon.
I would argue that the surprising ending feels inconsistent with large swathes of the preceding narrative. It did not sit right with me; however, there is a possible reasoning that needed to be made more transparent for it to be satisfying.
For those seeking a freshly frozen dose of high-end drama, Dead of Winter will not disappoint. This clever piece of cinema crafts tension with sophistication and finds humanity amidst hopelessness.
★★★★
In limited UK and Ireland cinemas now / Emma Thompson, Judy Greer, Marc Menchaca / Dir: Brian Kirk / Vertigo Releasing / 15
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