After playing, let's face it, a diabolical love cheat in Serendipity, John Cusack is back, playing an even worse human being in the dark, noir-ish 2005 comedy thriller The Ice Harvest from director Harold Ramis. This time Cusack is shady lawyer Charlie, attempting to lie low in snowy Wisconsin and plan his escape after swindling the mob out of millions on Christmas Eve. Thing is, his dubious partner-in-crime Vic (Billy Bob Thornton), a ruthless pornographer, has his own plans which lead to a long, dangerous night for all involved.
For a comedy thriller, this isn’t all that funny or thrilling, but it certainly is something, with the slippery, foreboding icy Wichita feeling like the ideal backdrop for this story of cold, slippery characters. Like Reservoir Dogs, most of the main action occurs off-camera, with Ramis’ film being more interested in the fall-out from the heist and all the odd little discussions and character moments that occur along the way.
We don’t know how Charlie and Vic have pulled this daring scam off but we do know that their getaway has been postponed by a blanket of treacherous black ice on the roads, thwarting passage to the airport. All that’s left is to hang around and avoid danger, passing the time ‘til the sun comes up. I find that although this is no classic, a ‘Christmas Noir’ is a nice change of pace.
It's clear these two aren’t the best people and not even particularly fond of each other. Charlie appears to be a slimy, crooked mob lawyer who thinks nothing of spending Christmas Eve in a strip joint where he’s on first name terms with the dancers, rather than visit his own kids. It's also clear he’s not even bought the children a present, despite having just come into a ton of cash. He floats around Connie Nielsen’s femme fatale dancer, trying to convince her to run away with him, seemingly too dumb to not realise she’s only interested in his money.
Things unfold in unexpected ways – Charlie, just wanting to lie low, finds himself having to drive sozzled old friend Pete (Oliver Platt) home for Christmas dinner, where it’s revealed that Pete is married to Charlie’s ex and living in his old house with his kids. It’s one of the most un-merry, messed-up Christmas scenes ever, with Charlie’s estranged family not holding back on how much they despise him for his failings and Pete revealing how long his affair with Charlie’s wife was going on. Platt is hugely enjoyable in his boozy, slurry, laying-it-all-out-there excess. It’s terribly uncomfortable, made all the worse by the fact that we know Charlie’s skipping town and won’t ever see his kids again.
It’s a film full of unlikeable characters which, in turn, makes it difficult to love. It's that sort of film where nobody can be trusted and you can rest assured that at least one character will reveal themselves to have been seriously underestimated. Neilsen makes for a decent femme fatale but the film seems to forget that we’ve all seen movies before and know she blatantly can’t be trusted. There’s a choice moment where Charlie asks her to run away with him after revealing he’s lost the money and she has to point out to him how dumb that is.
Thornton’s Vic is a proper cold bastard, who is more than happy to let the gangsters murder his wife who he’s long since become fed up with. He coldly proclaims that his now deceased and slightly overweight lady was on ‘the Subway diet’ – “a few footlongs for lunch and a few for dinner”. I find myself itching for him to get his comeuppance.
Randy Quaid makes a fun cameo as the despicable, psychotic head mobster, cutting loose and clearly enjoying playing a seething lunatic. It’s a shame he's not in it longer.
This is another nice change of gear on my festive filmic quest – a Christmas film where everyone is trying real hard to kill each other. There is some yuletide warmth when, realising what a shit he’s been, Charlie does eventually stop to get some gifts for the kids. Fittingly, though, they are pretty crap-looking toys. Screw this guy.
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