The Ice Harvest

Have you ever heard critics, or even your filmgoing cohorts, say "I felt like I needed a shower after watching that movie!"? Perhaps you've even said it. I have, on occasion. After all I'd read about THE ICE HARVEST, what with its potentially tawdry ingredients of mobster lawyers, strip clubs, and grifters, I expected to start my review (provided I wasn't too lazy to write one, clearly the case of latter days) with that very sentence.

So?

"Well," my response would be, "sort of..."

The plot: Charlie Arglist (John Cusack) is a hotshot, yet thoroughly weary attorney for a local mobster (Randy Quaid). One Christmas Eve, he decides to relieve his boss of 2 million and change. Aiding and abetting is Vic (Billy Bob Thornton), a cool as a cucumber egotist who you just know is the very definition of clandestine duplicity. He just doesn't wear it on his sleeve. The duo plans to blow town with the dough, but they have to have a "normal" Eve first. Doing things like visiting ex-wives and kids, listening to drunken pals ruminate on their pathetic lives, buying last minute gifts. These things occur, but so do quite a few other things......

Strange thing about this film, director Harold Ramis' and screenwriters Richard Russo and Robert Benton's adaptation of Scott Phillips' rather nasty novel. Despite all manner of sleazy goings and a really bleak, neo-Nietzche worldview, this film doesn't quite achieve the sort of discomforting griminess it is reaching for. At least, not while I was watching it or even immediately afterward.

Perhaps that has something to do with the location in which the action takes place. Witchita, KS. That's right. Not your usual setting. It's Christmas Eve. And it's icy and rainy. It looks so, well, pretty. We follow Charlie through luxurious homes and upscale saloons, yes, but even the strip clubs in this movie look immaculate. It's odd. Additionally, the crisp cinematography by Alar Kivilo adds a sheen of elegance, of slickness. The vivid uses of primary colors don't provide the expected neon sleazery, but rather shiny elan to this larcenous tale. Ah, but underneath the shiny wrapping and bow is a rather foul surprise!

The film was actually shot in the suburbs of Chicago, which are also quite immaculate, and I guess could easily double for Wichita. On the commentary track, Ramis deadpans that no one even knows what Wichita looks like. "I couldn't even find any pictures of it," he quips.

Of course, the incongruity of the locale and screenplay is probably by design. Having the ugliness occur on Christmas Eve in a town supposedly dominated by good, decent folk ("half of whom are in [this bar] tonight to get laid," Charlie remarks at one point) makes an effective contrast. Yet, the film feels too produced to completely be effective. I never felt the sort of unease the filmmakers wanted to convey. It was all too handsomely designed. Lots of horrible things play out, and there is some pitch black humor, and again it felt a bit antiseptic. I guess I was also supposed to be offended, as this screenplay is rife with more salty dialogue than your average R-rated feature, not to mention a plethora of nude pole dancers (mostly background and quite asexual, IMO) and the aforementioned point of view that is rather optimistically deemed, nihilist. Yet, I just felt numb.

Thinking on it, though, it all does seem more disturbing. THE ICE HARVEST is very similar to other neo noirs like THE LAST SEDUCTION, SHALLOW GRAVE, and BLOOD SIMPLE, yet, upon some reflection right now (I'm winging this review), the ice cold attitude does create a sort of despairing aftertaste, perhaps souring some of the "fun." Just desserts can be tasty, but the barren landscape which remains really prevents too much grim satisfaction. Maybe that shower isn't a bad idea after all.