First Snow

Directed by Mark Fergus

First-time director Mark Fergus’ slow-moving drama, First Snow, plays out like a vivid short story packed with shadowy characters and terse, involving scenes. Its central gimmick recalls the silly contrivances of EC Comics, with hints of supernatural elements providing a platform for a series of dreamy vignettes (appropriately, Fergus is one of the scribes on Marvel’s developing Iron Man feature). The filmmaker makes it work mainly by staying true to the seedy protagonist, a narrow-minded money-hound named Jimmy Starks (Guy Pearce) whose flimsy confidence slowly melts around him.

When Jimmy playfully blows some cash on the services of trailer park fortuneteller Vacaro (the great J.K. Simmons) and gets informed that his death is imminent (“you’re safe until the first snow”), he first reacts by complimenting the prophet on his business sense. But the slimeball quickly learns that the prediction wasn’t intended as a joke—Vacaro returns Jimmy’s money and refuses to continue his service. Their eerie initial exchange takes place during the first 10 minutes of the movie, which leaves a lot of time for exposition to build toward … something. While the general mystery looms large, the story takes on an ephemeral quality; Jimmy gradually deconstructs his self-absorbed ambition and recoils at the realization of his own mortality.

The belief that his unstable ex-con brother will serve as the exterminating angel who carries out this cosmic death sentence turns Jimmy into a paranoid loner, jumping (quite literally) at the wind. Despite the clear-cut indie aura that obviously dictates—at least to some degree—the smallness of the project, the low-key nature of First Snow matches the story’s psychological nuances. It expands into a smarter take on the Final Destination premise, adding a lyrical quality to the idea that death carries an inescapable design. The eponymous weather sequence that throws Jimmy into a tizzy looks marvelous, filmed in wide shots of expansive white terrain that eventually symbolize the vanity of human perseverance.

So yeah, it’s dark—but a bright spot in Pearce’s career, who has needed a rebound since butchering Andy Warhol in Factory Girl. The terrific performer now returns to Memento turf—channeling his serious-looking mug and thin, constrained features into a landscape of dread. He manages to pull off the alluringly paradoxical hat trick of playing a sympathetic asshole.