FILM REVIEW - The Ice Harvest (2005)

CAST Charlie: John Cusack Vic: Billy Bob Thornton Renata: Connie Nielsen Bill Guerrard: Randy Quaid Pete Van Heuten: Oliver Platt DIRECTOR Harold Ramis Running Time: 88 minutes Rated R (for violence, language, and sexuality) Imagine spending Christmas Eve in Wichita, Kansas during an ice storm with a couple of guys who have mob connections, driving from one seedy strip club to another, as they proceed to get increasingly drunk and obnoxious. That’s essentially the experience of watching Harold Ramis’ comedy-noir flick, The Ice Harvest. There’s more to the story, of course. Charlie (John Cusack) has just stolen 2 million dollars from his boss, Bill Guerrard (Randy Quaid) – who happens to be the closest thing Kansas has to a mafia kingpin. Charlie’s partner in crime, Vic (Billy Bob Thornton), is holding on to the money for the time being. All they have to do is sit tight for a few hours, then skip town and start their new lives before anyone’s the wiser. Ah, such a simple plan! Funny how such plans have a way of getting complicated, isn't it? The first complication arises when Charlie spots Roy (Mike Star), a henchman whose appearance in town can only mean one thing: Bill Guerrard is onto them. As Charlie dodges Roy, his trust in Vic begins to falter and he contacts his friend – and the object of his lust – Renata (Connie Nielsen). Nielsen's Renata is a venomous femme fatale who brings to mind Rita Hayworth’s searing performance as Gilda in the title role of Charles Vidor's 1946 film noir classic – a movie, like The Ice Harvest, with three unlikeable characters similarly hell-bent on destroying one another. Renata is smart, sexy, and calculating. It comes as no surprise when we learn that she’s had her hands in Charlie and Vic’s scheme from the very beginning. The Ice Harvest seems to have all the makings of a thrilling dark comedy, and the look of a modern noir thriller. But it fails on three levels that ultimately prove fatal for the film as a whole. First and foremost, it isn’t funny. Most of the comedy is provided by Charlie’s drunk friend, Pete (Oliver Platt) – because alcoholism is hilarious, after all. But rather than endearing, his behavior is increasingly pathetic and embarrassing. When he berates his wife and insults his in-laws in front of the kids during their Christmas dinner, we’re left with little to like about him. That's a problem with all of the characters in The Ice Harvest. There’s nothing even a smidgen likeable about any of them. We certainly have no sympathy for the anti-hero, Charlie. Unlike Fargo’s Jerry Lundegaard, Charlie isn’t driven by desperation. He’s a successful lawyer who’s simply greedy. And John Cusack just can’t muster the charm required to make such a rotten character endearing. Billy Bob Thornton does a slightly better job with the even more despicable Vic, but that alone can't save the film. Watching the vile scoundrels in Gilda bring each other down is a delicious experience. Their hatred for one another makes their mutual destruction a delightfully twisted joy to behold. But The Ice Harvest deprives us of this dirty pleasure because there’s no such electricity among the characters. We neither like them nor love to hate them. And hence, we find ourselves neither rooting for them nor delighting in their demise. Ramis knows how to deliver comedy, which he proved with his 1993 masterpiece Groundhog Day. But Groundhog Day owes its success not only to Ramis’ deft direction, but to the perfect casting and spot-on performance of Bill Murray. In The Ice Harvest, Ramis gives us a modern-day film noir as dark as any 40s underworld thriller. The film succeeds in making Wichita look and feel as dreary and miserable as it actually is (oh yes, I've been there). But the unfortunate miscasting of Cusack, the absence of chemistry among the characters, and the shortage of comedy render The Ice Harvest an empty, frigid viewing experience. It’s exactly like being stuck in Wichita during an ice storm with a couple of loud, obnoxious drunks. You’d rather be anywhere else.