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Melissa Leo stars in Courtney Hunt’s “Frozen River,” showing Monday and Tuesday at the Wheeler Opera House in Aspen.
ASPEN — As well as any movie I can think of, “Frozen River” treads the line of extremes that many of us live — between despair and hope, compassion and self-preservation.
The movie, opening Monday in Aspen, could well be described as grim, in almost every sense: the economic conditions it depicts, the landscape, the relationships among family members and between discrete groups of people. Without flinching from those realities — which do feel intensely real here — there is also tenderness and connection. Writer-director Courtney Hunt, in her debut, never seems to be involved in a balancing act, doling out balanced measures of comfort and unease. Rather, there is a natural co-existence between the two, a confirmation that it is in the most trying circumstances that human nature manifests itself in all its dimensions.
“Frozen River” takes place in an extreme place — the northernmost part of upstate New York, along the Canadian border. The economy there is horrific — Hunt’s script practically anticipates the recent meltdown — reflected in the rundown trailers and the plethora of discount stores. It is a politically and sociologically extreme corner of the country: The Mohawk reservation occupies both sides of the border, making for a quasi-nation unto itself. There is a constant low-level tension between Indians and whites, who live by different rules — though no one seems to know the nuances of those rules, or who enforces them.
The undeniable reality in this area-without-a-name is poverty. It is shared by and affects all: Ray (Melissa Leo, in a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination), a white mother of two begging for more hours at the Yankee Dollar store; her husband, a gambling addict who has disappeared; Ray’s two kids — the bitter 15-year-old T.J., who begs to ditch school and go to work, and 5-year-old Ricky, who is still young enough to dream of decent Christmas gifts and a doublewide trailer. In the same financial boat is Lila (Misty Upham), a gruff, young Mohawk widow who knows the ins-and-outs of the most lucrative trade in the region — smuggling.
Circumstances — absent husbands, poverty, lack of opportunity — throw Ray and Lila together in a gloomy, desperate partnership. Lila flashes cash in front of Ray, and it is enough for Ray to drop her fear and morality and become a smuggler of human bodies. As Ray and Lila cross, again and again, over the literal frozen river, the film takes on some of the breathless character of a thriller: The cops start sniffing around; deals start to get rough; guns are drawn. Then, when one smuggling episode includes an unexpected piece of contraband, it moves jarringly back into human drama mode, as Ray and Lila confront what is left of the essential humanity that they are barely clinging to.
There is a jarring, but also satisfying conclusion to the plot of “Frozen River” that offers commentary on resilience, self-sacrifice and the lengths Ray will go to ensure the well-being of her sons. It is a wonderful ending, mixing disappointment and hopefulness.
But the best moment of the film, which earned the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, comes just after that dust has settled. Ray is in a police car, handcuffed, exposed as a criminal, a liar, a failed parent. She asks the officer (Michael O’Keefe, who nearly a lifetime ago played Danny Noonan in “Caddyshack”) for a cigarette, and he gives her one, lights it for her. It’s a small gesture, a brief moment of comfort for Ray, and Officer Finnerty does it with no hesitation, no judgment. He knows what she is up against, understands it, and feels for her.
The movie, opening Monday in Aspen, could well be described as grim, in almost every sense: the economic conditions it depicts, the landscape, the relationships among family members and between discrete groups of people. Without flinching from those realities — which do feel intensely real here — there is also tenderness and connection. Writer-director Courtney Hunt, in her debut, never seems to be involved in a balancing act, doling out balanced measures of comfort and unease. Rather, there is a natural co-existence between the two, a confirmation that it is in the most trying circumstances that human nature manifests itself in all its dimensions.
“Frozen River” takes place in an extreme place — the northernmost part of upstate New York, along the Canadian border. The economy there is horrific — Hunt’s script practically anticipates the recent meltdown — reflected in the rundown trailers and the plethora of discount stores. It is a politically and sociologically extreme corner of the country: The Mohawk reservation occupies both sides of the border, making for a quasi-nation unto itself. There is a constant low-level tension between Indians and whites, who live by different rules — though no one seems to know the nuances of those rules, or who enforces them.
The undeniable reality in this area-without-a-name is poverty. It is shared by and affects all: Ray (Melissa Leo, in a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination), a white mother of two begging for more hours at the Yankee Dollar store; her husband, a gambling addict who has disappeared; Ray’s two kids — the bitter 15-year-old T.J., who begs to ditch school and go to work, and 5-year-old Ricky, who is still young enough to dream of decent Christmas gifts and a doublewide trailer. In the same financial boat is Lila (Misty Upham), a gruff, young Mohawk widow who knows the ins-and-outs of the most lucrative trade in the region — smuggling.
Circumstances — absent husbands, poverty, lack of opportunity — throw Ray and Lila together in a gloomy, desperate partnership. Lila flashes cash in front of Ray, and it is enough for Ray to drop her fear and morality and become a smuggler of human bodies. As Ray and Lila cross, again and again, over the literal frozen river, the film takes on some of the breathless character of a thriller: The cops start sniffing around; deals start to get rough; guns are drawn. Then, when one smuggling episode includes an unexpected piece of contraband, it moves jarringly back into human drama mode, as Ray and Lila confront what is left of the essential humanity that they are barely clinging to.
There is a jarring, but also satisfying conclusion to the plot of “Frozen River” that offers commentary on resilience, self-sacrifice and the lengths Ray will go to ensure the well-being of her sons. It is a wonderful ending, mixing disappointment and hopefulness.
But the best moment of the film, which earned the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, comes just after that dust has settled. Ray is in a police car, handcuffed, exposed as a criminal, a liar, a failed parent. She asks the officer (Michael O’Keefe, who nearly a lifetime ago played Danny Noonan in “Caddyshack”) for a cigarette, and he gives her one, lights it for her. It’s a small gesture, a brief moment of comfort for Ray, and Officer Finnerty does it with no hesitation, no judgment. He knows what she is up against, understands it, and feels for her.
“Frozen River” shows Monday and Tuesday at 7:30 p.m. at Aspen's Wheeler Opera House.
stewart@aspentimes.com
stewart@aspentimes.com
