A couple of days ago, we got hit with close to a foot of snow. While I've survived many a cold, snowy winter, it is not my favorite climate. If I get too cold, I cease to function. I've been this way for a while; as soon as I start to feel a chill I start to shut down. The worst episode was when I was a teenager. It was February with snow on the ground and my dad and I were driving back down the I-95 to the Bronx from Boston, where I'd visited some college campuses. The station wagon malfunctioned somehow, and in the days before cellphones, my dad left me in the vehicle on the side of the road while he went for help. Waiting for his return, I developed my first case of frostbite. Seeing my fingers turn from white to purple to black, then feeling the burning, searing pain when the blood finally returned to my extremities is something I have never forgotten.
So when I see films where extreme cold and snow are a factor, I physically recoil. No matter how great the storyline, no matter how temperate my surroundings while watching, I often find myself growing uncomfortable, viewing with my shoulders raised to my ears, arms crossed, hands tucked under, teeth gritted.
Here are three of the frostiest films that I can think of off the top of my head:
The Revenant (2015)
This is an Oscar-winning tale of adventure and revenge in a bitter cold West of 1823, directed by Alejandro G. Iñáritu. Leonardo diCaprio stars as Hugh Glass, a reluctant guide for a ragtag fur-trapping party, whose half Pawnee teen son comes along. The group is attacked by another tribe, and to avoid being ambushed by more natives along their journey, Glass leads them overland to Fort Kiowa. Except on the way he is horribly mauled by a bear. The group's now self-appointed leader, John Reynolds (a weaselly Tom Hardy), attempts to smother him but is caught in the act by Glass' son. Hardy stabs the son to death before Glass' helpless eyes, convinces the rest of the party that Glass is dead, and abandons him to the elements, intent on cashing in the pelts for himself. The film now becomes a grueling survival story, as Glass must endure bitter cold, dense snowfall, bone-chilling rains, ice-laden rivers, further Indian attacks, and hunger, not to mention being debilitated by his wounds, as he attempts to get to Fort Kiowa, then revenge himself on Reynolds. Their final showdown takes place in a vast snowy landscape by a frozen creek. Photographed in grim grays and dim blues, the film' cinematography is awe-inspiring as it depicts the vast and lonely vistas of snow-covered mountains, frosty meadows, and ice-covered waterways. But the film literally left me cold. While DiCaprio's endurance in portraying this long-suffering character is notable, I couldn't wait for The Revenant to be over.
Dr. Zhivago (1965)
This David Lean-directed classic tells the story of the Russian Revolution, as seen through the eyes of an idealistic, aristocratic poet and doctor, and the troubled seamstress' daughter turned nurse with whom he has an affair. It's a long, melodramatic film on a scale as vast as Russia itself, with numerous twists and turns, a score of dynamic characters, incredible setpieces, and a soaring musical score. If you pay attention it offers new and interesting details with every successive viewing. What I most remember is Zhivago fleeing Moscow to a country estate with his wife, son, and in-laws, traveling by train through a barren landscape of endless sacked villages covered in snow, then arriving at the manse in the dead of winter by horse-drawn sleigh. Later in the film, he will take refuge here again with his lover, Lara, after the estate's lower floors have become an ice palace due to destruction by rebel forces and the elements. The cinematography and set designs are amazing and who can forget the Russian style sable and fox furs donned by the romantic pair as they survey the scene? The two almost make the snow seem cozy.
Fargo (1996)
Named for the North Dakota city where some of the film's "malfeasance" takes place, Fargo is the Coen Brothers' tragicomic story about a hapless car salesman so desperate to make a name for himself as the sole owner of a parking lot that he sells his soul -- and that of his unsuspecting wife, the daughter of a rich and controlling local tycoon -- to a pair of violent, ignorant louts. Nothing good can come from a scheme in which Jerry Lundegaard (the incredible William H. Macy) pays to have his own wife kidnaped so he can pocket the ransom and launch his business; everything that can go wrong does go wrong, and hot on his trail is a good-natured, persistent, and very pregnant police officer Marge Gunderson (a crack turn by Frances McDormand) from Minnesota's Twin Cities. Snow and cold figure prominently in the film, as characters must suit up to head out into the elements in snowboots and hats, the long featureless highway between towns is a bleak frozen tundra, a police informant so bundled up as he leans on a snow shovel that he can barely be seen, Steve Buscemi's bad guy packs snow onto his bloody jaw after being shot, then later cluelessly buries an attache case full of cash at an indistinguishable fence post among many along the snow-swept road. At the conclusion Marge chases down acerbic bad guy Peter Stormare across a frozen lake. Cold and snow are an unremarkable part of life in this part of the country. Marge lectures her quarry as she takes him to jail in a squad car traversing the snowdrifts: "There's more to life than a little money, ya know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are. And it's a beautiful day." (Emphasis mine.)
What are your standout snowy flicks? Feel free to follow this blog and post your comments below.
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