"What is so special about Lake Hilda?"
Showcasing an intimate setting with a small batch of characters, Brian Kink's Dead of Winter is a testament to the power of perseverance. And while the plot boasts holes large enough to hook an alligator gar, the tension more than seals the deal, giving the audience a thriller that, while occasionally predictable, is, more often than not, well, thrilling.
Emma Thompson stars as Barb (though we don't learn that until the final moments of the film), a recent widow who, tackle box in hand, ventures out to enjoy a day of ice finishing and reminisce about Karl, her late husband, with whom she lived for. With only a paper map at her disposal, she becomes lost in the sea of glistening white powder. A gunshot in the distance alerts her to some nearby hunters. Feeling desperate, she seeks directions.
When she pulls up to the isolated cabin, she immediately meets a heavily wrapped-up bearded man (Marc Menchaca). Though a bit off, he provides a seemingly appropriate explanation for the blood spatter on the driveway by uttering a single word: deer. Although his demeanor raises eyebrows, his directions prove to be good. Barb follows the suggested route and spends the evening on the lake, fishing and sorting through her emotionally charged memories.
Although not entirely necessary, director Brian Kirk takes us through many of those memories with a series of flashbacks that, while intriguing, reveal little within the context of the story. We flip back and forth through the recollections and Thompson's expressive face as she sorts through old pictures and pushes around small tokens lying in the tackle box. It's a moment of stillness within the film that helps to personify the rapid fire that is forthcoming—even if the moment quickly becomes overplayed.
It's not until a chance encounter on the lake sets in motion a return visit to the cabin that Barb uncovers the actual reason for the man's awkwardness. Peering through a boarded-up window to the basement, she sees a young woman (Laurel Marsden) tied up and gagged. Almost immediately, Barb goes into hero mode, unsure of the whole story or the reason things got to where they are, but hell bent on saving this unknown woman from the hands of death that is slowly tightening its grip.
However, what starts as a possible short story is elongated when two cars pull onto the isolated property. Here, our protagonist learns that while an accomplice, the bearded man is not the lead of the story. That role belongs to his wife (Judy Greer), the crazy haired mastermind who, while sucking on a Fentanyl lollipop, begins to bark orders at her husband, belittling him at every turn.
So begins the cat-and-mouse chase as the two women trade punches, showcasing the fight between brains and brawn as they both battle for survival against each other and the elements. But even with impressive moments that showcase a sixty-something Thompson holding her own, shooting guns, engineering escapes, and performing surgery on herself using a most definitely unclean fishhook, it is hard to overlook the missed opportunities that exist throughout the film's fast-paced second act.
Outside of the underdevelopment of Greer's character, a plethora of other moments skate by untouched. Forced to fit together a slew of puzzle pieces that we are never wholly sure belong to the same project, viewers only receive snippits of clues as to the intricacies of our characters. Although we do get a moment to watch as Barb cares for Karl, lying in the bedroom of their cold cabin, struggling to breathe on his own, we never get the whole story on any of our primary players.
Even as the film blazes towards its grand finale, the story fractures further under the weight of its own dense missteps. Blinded by desperation, viewers can understand Greer's villainous turn. Though often ridiculous, her pain and suffering account for her erratic behavior, ultimately giving her nonsensical actions a purpose. Thompson's Barb doesn't get off so easily. Knowledgeable and savvy in the great outdoors, she, time and time again, violates basic hero principles. Crafty and committed to the process, viewers can only bear so much before they lose faith in our sweet and kind protagonist, one who continues to apologize for her relatively mild cursing.
Likely needed to keep the film running, the absurdness crescendos into the third act, where a work tent now sits mere feet from Barb's ice shelter. I'm sure it's all crucial for the story, but seasoned viewers will gawk at the surrendered authenticity. And as Kink makes a final push to humanize our hero, you can't help but grin. Though Dead of Winter is far from perfect, it is a female-led thriller that demonstrates just enough tense, fun, and chilling moments to entertain and amuse.
