Snow Cake (NR)

I’ve always been a fan of independent films. They offer some of the cleanest forms of cinema, the brightest emotion, and can make everyday reality a prettier picture than a million action-filled finales. The strength of “Snow Cake,” Marc Evans’ 2006 drama, is that it manages to make everyday reality, and personal demons, an epic worth experiencing. Here we get to see Alan Rickman at his most subdued, and Sigourney Weaver at her absolute best. On its downside, some wandering and unfinished thoughts line its run-time. Its’ slow pace makes some of its more tender moments stick – even if these are somewhat few are far between.

Rickman plays Alex, a sullen man working his way through Canada, until he meets Vivienne, played with heart and spunk by Emily Hampshire. Vivienne needs a ride, and Alex is reluctant to give it to her. We learn Alex has killed a man, though we’re not sure why. And Vivienne doesn’t care. In ten minutes, we learn that Vivienne is a vibrant life. The rest of the film tries really hard to tell us what a wonder Vivienne was to those around her, but can’t accomplish what Hampshire does in only two scenes. We like her and Alex as companions; but before not too long, a truck smashes into their car, killing Vivienne instantly. But we learn it’s somehow Alex who’s hurt the most.

Bright, introspective acting makes “Snow Cake” work. There’s of course a reason Alex can’t move past Vivienne’s tragic death, but to hint at it does the film a disservice. In time Alex meets Linda, Vivienne’s mother, and tries to apologize for his part in Vivienne’s death. Linda seems not to react to her daughter’s death at all. She has Autism, and is played by Sigourney Weaver in such a total performance, that search as you might you can’t find a trace of Ripley from “Alien,” or  Dana Barrett from “Ghostbusters.” But this isn’t one of those performances with mental illness offered as Oscar bait. Weaver is amazing, but isn’t a scene-stealer; Linda never shines. She blends into this movie, becoming a symbol of life that helps Alex move on from personal demons.

The cinematography sells this film, as we are confronted with snow, icy roads, and lonely terrain, but in a way that makes this place, Wawa (a real place in Ontario) seem warm. A Neighbor (Carrie-Ann Moss, “The Matrix”) is welcoming to Alex even if Linda seems to have an aversion to her. And the town itself is painted in a homegrown way, where town cops issue advice, and a trip into town from lonely, suburban residences is a welcome respite. This film reminds me of another winter-driven drama which I love, “Aurora Borealis,” even if it never reaches the emotional depths of that film. The ordinary is presented as extraordinary, and, for a change, we are content getting swept into the film’s normality.

Relative newcomer Angela Pell presents a script that is warm and entertaining, and the performances are pleasing and good. It’s nice to see Rickman in a role that is pensive and kind, shedding more villainous roles such as in “Die Hard.” Alex is lost and pained, but a number of activities –such as staying in town to help Linda plan funeral arrangements – show a benevolent man he may have forgotten. And Weaver is fantastic, dissolving into the Autistic Linda completely. She brings a realness to the character that is doubtless pulled from true life, as a quick online search reveals Pell’s own daughter has Autism. This film isn’t about Autism, however, or even tragedy… but rebirth. And “Snow Cake” drives this point home in the subtlest of ways, such as when Vivienne’s Grandfather, played terrifically by David Fox, shows the impact that the young girl’s passing has had on them all.

The film isn’t perfect, as some meandering may cause some viewers to lose interest along the way. Some additional aspects get tiresome, such as a secret Alex harbors that takes much to long to be brought to light, and the unfinished way the film comes to a close. But it has heart. It has a rich soundtrack, featuring artists such as Tori Amos, Broken Social Scene, and the wonderful “Just Looking” by Stereophonics that highlights one of the film’s most touching scenes. Sarandon and Rickman make this film memorable, and even those with less screen-time do nothing to harm it. “Snow Cake” is sweet, and seldom bitter, which is its greatest asset. Given its premise, a darker film would have probably been easier to make.

– by Mark Ziobro