THE ICE STORM -a review by Bill Chambers **** (out of four)
starring Kevin Kline, Joan Allen, Christina Ricci, Sigourney Weaver, Tobey Maguire written by James Schamus, based on Rick Moody's novel directed by Ang Lee
Allow me, for a few sentences, to slam PLAYING GOD, the new David Duchovny vehicle, for there is a relative purpose. Both PLAYING GOD and THE ICE STORM begin with narration, but the only the latter gets it right. In GOD, Duchovny blandly sets up the tale over the opening titles in voice over, telling us that he's a doctor, that he's had his license suspended because of a drug addiction, that he's going to the nightclub we're craning down on to score some drugs, and that sometimes life throws curve balls. What follows is this: a scene in which David Duchovny buys drugs; a scene in which Duchovny is thrown a curve ball (he performs emergency surgery in the nightclub); a scene in which Duchovny does drugs; and a flashback in which Duchovny screws up an operation. So, if we were going to see all of that, anyway, why did first time hack Andy Wilson choose to have his lead spell it out for us? The answer, dare I venture, lies within the hearts of bad directors, who believe the audiences are as stupid as themselves.
THE ICE STORM, on the other, begins with young actor Tobey Maguire sitting on an empty, stopped train reading a comic book, at which point his voice over kicks in. Poetically, he compares family life to "The Fantastic Four", without giving away a single moment of what we're about to see. So there, the most tired, lazy device in motion pictures doesn't have to be tired and lazy; narration can tell us what the picture's about without telegraphing the plot.
Many such moments in THE ICE STORM are poetic. The story takes place in 1973, at the sunset of the sexual revolution. Kline plays the harried husband of Allen (who is excellent as a frigid wife and mother again, but it's time to stretch those acting muscles) and father of two (Ricci and Maguire). While he spends his days in the bed of the also- cheating neighbour Weaver, his children begin to adopt similar behaviour. Ricci is a sexually adventurous fourteen-year-old who flirts with both of Weaver's sons (Adam Hann-Bird and Elijah Wood). His son is away at private school hatching a plan to bed the class beauty before his studlier roommate does.
Their actions are motivated by more than their libido, however. There is a shared desperation for communication and contact among them, paralyzed by their own unhappiness in the "perfect" suburban neighbourhood. Despite its subject matter, THE ICE STORM never lapses into satire nor does it mock its characters, even as it gently pokes fun at their various predicaments. Suburbia in most films, like EDWARD SCISSORHANDS or WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE, is portrayed as a white picket fence surrounding a dozen Addams families. THE ICE STORM is less eager to impress us with quirky kinfolk; it places the two neighbouring families under a microscope and asks us to perform our own examinations.
So subtly portrayed are these characters, so evenly directed is this film, that I found myself appreciating the experience of watching it, even if I wasn't bedazzled by it at the moment. This is the kind of film that gets under your skin; the next morning it was all I could think about. Even the downplayed tragedy of the ending--the effects of the titular storm-- seemed twice as powerful the next day.
THE ICE STORM upstages all movies about dysfunctional families because it's unself- conscious. Witty without being jokey, sad without being blatently tearjerking, this is the sort of film that may be so realistic and unforgiving audiences will stay away in droves.
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