In Courtney Hunt's Frozen River, two mothers begin smuggling illegal aliens across the
Canadian border by way of the St. Lawrence River. One of them is white American,
the former is Native American. The white mother wants to rekindle the trust between
her and her iI sons. The other mother simply wants her boy back from her former
mother-in-law.
Shot on DV and acquired by Sony Pictures Classics for under a million, River won the prestigious
Grand Jury Prize in the Dramatic Competition at this past year's Sundance Film Festival,
licking out Lance Hammer's forthcoming, hypnotic Ballast and Ryan Fleck & Anna Boden's Suga
r, Fleck's follow-up to the enthralling Half Nelson.
Filmed in upstate New York, Hunt's celluloid stars Melissa Leo as Ray, the white mother,
an employee of a local 99-cent store and estranged wife of a delinquent gambler husband.
Her husband, Mohawk-born, sells her car to Lila (Misty Upham), a local Mohawk who wo
rks for a Bingo hall. Lila sees the car as an opportunity, but she doesn't expect
a gun-toting standoff with Ray at her little trailer. After some minor strife, the
women team up and become smugglers for illegals between Quebec and the U.S.
Hunt has a lot working for her. Her minor budget gives the film a scrappy striking
pull that would seem (more) oppressive if it had been made with big studio sheen.
The snow-swept tundra gives camera operator Reed Dawson Morano and the theatre director a
naturally beautiful scene to work with. Most of all, she has Leo, the New York-born character
actor who cut her teeth on Homicide: Life on the Streets and skint out as the saturnine
wife to Benicio Del Toro in 21 Grams. Ms. Leo has the face of Shakespearean heartache: Even
in small glimpses of happiness, her sunken eyes express irrepressible melancholy.
The screenplay, written by the director, sets up many conflicts for both Lila and
Ray: Ray's eldest son (Charlie McDermott) is tired of taking precaution of his little crony,
a province trooper (a very beneficial Michael O'Keefe) starts suspecting the bicycle-built-for-two, Lila's
Mohawk elders do not approve of her newfound job nor her white business partner, and
then there's the French-Canadian gangster (Mark Boone Jr.) lurking around. But Hunt's
script's nomenclature is dull and expositional, often working against the authenticity
that Leo and Upham bring to their roles. It also lashings the film with useless detours,
tribal chief amongst them an flat bit involving a Pakistani couple's baby being thrown
in the snow subsequently being mistaken for luggage. These situations divert care from
Lila's problems with her mother-in-law and her infant son, a far more enthralling dilemma.
With a few exceptions (2004's Primer, 2001's The Believer, 1996's Welcome to the Dollhouse), Sundanc
e has consistently awarded films that talk about cultural issues without offer
much insight into the matters. They also crudely saddle more visually and dramatically
imaginative films with special direction or cinematography awards. Frozen River ce
rtainly isn't the worst of its prize-holders, but it highlights a vapid streak in
the festival's ever-deteriorating cred. You'd hardly believe the same festival once
showcased such groundbreaking work as the Coen brothers' Blood Simple and Todd Haynes' Poison.
Man this is a cold river.
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