2006, UK/Canada
Drama, Romance
READ THE REVIEW AT The Desert Sun.
Extended version:
No two snowflakes are alike, but when they all melt into one puddle, does it matter?
In Snow Cake, director Marc Evans attempts to forge Angela Pell's story of autism and forgiveness in the stark winter of Wawa, Ontario. Everyone has a secret to spill after the sudden death of a lively young woman, yet the confessions are not worthy of such a tragic accident.
The deceased's mother is a high-functioning autistic woman portrayed by Sigourney Weaver. Weaver straddles a thin line, expressing herself in a stilted manner that hits extremes with the flip of a switch. The portrayal is understandably difficult, but it lacks a consistent flow of personality. Some of this can be attributed to a script that is trying to be more poignant than it actually delivers.
Weaver's character is meant to be the archetypal simpleton who touches everyone she meets with her straightforward, detached honesty. The woman that encourages sentiment is the one who cannot feel it herself. But the other characters never fully reach that emotional peak, and Weaver falls into the background merely as a thread that ties together the members and visitors of this prying small town.
Weaver delivers lines that should have been a warning to her when reviewing the dialogue. The only two solid characters are Alan Rickman's predictably dry accidental tourist and Carrie-Anne Moss's straight-shooting neighbor. Why her character has stayed in the town she so openly disdains is anyone's guess, as well as the question of their circumstantial attraction.
The film wants to be a quirky, thoughtful indie, but the gentle focus of sparse landscapes and carefully chosen soundtrack gives it away too readily. Oh, the places you will go on your way to Winnipeg. The townspeople try to be charmingly annoying, with giant bereavement cookies and paranoid policemen, but in the end they're easily forgotten.
A book can’t be judged by its cover, as illustrated by the fact that blank house fronts belie unique interiors. Weaver’s home feels like a toy store run by a manager with OCD, while Moss’ neighbor prefers an Asian influence that implies a seductive lair. As Rickman inhabits both homes, he searches for a natural comfort long lost. As he comes clean to both women about his past, he is forced to temporarily adopt their lifestyles in order to communicate.
Movies involving life-altering changes, encompassing metaphors (the snow melts away with his frozen emotions, get it?) and the mentally challenged are complicated enough without forcing an affection for the characters. Though Evans seems to have good intentions, sometimes a mouthful of snow is just that.