A somber winter
Snow Angels comes off as a dreamy slice of rural living — until it’s interrupted with flashes of violence and suppressed, near-biblical ire
By Ling Ma
Published: April 2nd, 2008 | 9:30pm
I have a theory why every film that David Gordon Green has made is set in small towns and rural areas. In places where there’s not much going on, often there’s nowhere else to go but inward. Characters flourish or mislead themselves by the hand of their own impassioned imaginations and reasoning.
Based on the Stewart O’ Nan novel of the same title, Snow Angels thoughtfully rambles through the lives of a handful of small town residents one winter. It centers on the aftermath of a young married couple after separation. Annie (Kate Beckinsale) struggles to pay the bills and raise her daughter by working as a waitress at a Chinese restaurant. Her estranged husband Glenn (Sam Rockwell) recedes more and more into himself, becoming more religiously dogmatic and struggling at his job as a carpet salesman.
Like George Washington and Undertow, two of Green’s previous films, Snow Angels almost comes off as a dreamy slice of rural living — until it’s interrupted with flashes of violence and sometimes near-biblical ire. And like his previous films, one of its main themes is the development of boys as they grow into men — in this case, men who are visibly struggling as patriarchal leaders, husbands, fathers, and pillars of the community.
Witness to Annie and Glenn’s troubles is Arthur Parkinson (Michael Angarano), a high school teen working at the same restaurant with Annie who grapples with his feelings toward his own estranged father, who continues to woo his mother with love letters. For the most part, the women in this story are doing their best to get by in spite of their disappointments, and it’d be remiss not to mention Amy Sedaris’ surprisingly subdued performance as Annie’s close friend. Married to an adulterous cad, she delivers little bursts of humor that don’t detract away from the film’s somber tone, but provide moments of relief from the heady sobriety.
Green is one of the most talented and beautifully nuanced directors of his generation, and his style is directly influenced by the likes of Terrence Malick and Robert Altman. Sensualist and hazy, Green’s camera has always moved as if we’re watching it specifically through an observer’s eyes — not one who’s watching events happen right before his eyes, but as he’s playing it in his head years later, from a reel that’s aged and water damaged but still rife with emotion.
To that effect, Green employs long shots that zoom in, from noticeably far distances, to specific subjects in the shot, as if trying to tell us to what we should see, what we should focus on. There are a few instances when the camera resignedly shuffles away from the main action of the screen, to settle on something else: the sunset filtering through tree branches, diesel-greased snow banks, and other small town detritus. The story continues moving, the characters continue doing what they’re doing and we hear their voices, but we’re no longer looking.
Sometimes, Green seems to say, you just have to look away.
Issue #35
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