The Ice Man Cometh

That's the thing about film noir -- you can't watch one in the genre without thinking about a ton of others. The Ice Harvest (2005) is an evil little work: like many of its type, it's a clever B grade film with lots of crisp dialogue and stylish shots, with a strong backbone of good writing. Don't forget a possible femme fatale, a blundering cop, mysterious circumstances, and apparent double crosses. Shadows, repeat visitations to the same locales -- including strip clubs, houses, cars -- where nothing is as it seems, are rife with the expected sinister implications.

Because it's in color, The Ice Harvest beckons more to film noir of the past thirty years rather than the great black and white classics (think Bogart, Robert Mitchum, or Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster in The Killers). It does not land punches like Bad Santa (2003) -- the dialogue is witty, but not of the wickedly hysterical kind, nor does it reach the scary depths of the Coen Brothers' Blood Simple (1984) or Fargo (1996). It is entertaining and thoughtful, enough so to make it an artistic success.

The graffiti mantra, "As Wichita Falls, So Falls Wichita Falls," further confuses matters --Wichita, Kansas rather than Wichita Falls, Texas; the actual location is around Chicago, where director Harold Ramis is now based. Like Groundhog Day (1993), The Ice Harvest ruminates about the existential state of people (specifically middle-aged men, with some nods to women) trying to find a way beyond mediocrity in the modern world. The Connie Nielsen, John Cussack and Billy Bob Thornton characters make the grim but understandable choice to gamble their lives for freedom via stealing more than two million bucks in cash from the Randy Quaid character.

The movie, nicely set on a Christmas Eve and the following morning, is based on a novel by the same name by Scott Phillips; Richard Russo and Robert Benton wrote the screenplay. The novel is set in 1979, but the movie is set in the era of mobile phones. Even with the newer technology, however, Russo and Benton handle things nicely by having, for instance, Charlie (Cusack) drop his phone during the pattery ice storm that wreaks havoc in several scenes.

The DVD package includes extras like a conversation between Phillips, Russo, and Benton; two alternate endings; an outtake with Billy Bob reverting to his Swing Blade character, and other generous features. Harold Ramis comes across as the happiest film director I've ever seen -- sort of the Henry Miller of cinema, perhaps. Randy Quaid and Mike Starr make notable and charged (if short) appearances -- they are both physically big and intimidating men, worthy of The Sopranos.

As Detroit does, so goes the nation. . . .