コールド・バレット 凍てついた七月

> Kind of so good till Jim Bob Luke's entry. I'm glad I watched it, but if I had missed it, I would have not worried much. Anyway, you can't say like that until you watch any movie. This movie was excellent, I mean it for the first 40-45 minutes. So much twist and thrills, I was almost regretting for almost missing it. But once the character Jim Bob Luke was introduced in a grand style, the narration went off the track. The best parts were over, I got lost interest, and I asked myself why it has to be like this after a wonderful opening? Especially for the character Dane who was a family man and his choice was completely wrong. As mush as Dane, I wanted to know who he shot, but that was not the story's intention to reveal and went in a different direction to disappoint me. The guys (actors) were awesome, but the writing was a let down, it owes lots of explanation rather telling a decent story. It was an indie crime-thriller based on the novel of the same name, sets in the 1980s. I won't say the film was bad, but I enjoyed only the half movie, the first half. 6/10

All right, boys, it's Howdy Doody time. Cold in July is directed by Jim Mickle and Mickle co-adapts the screenplay with Nick Damici from the novel written by Joe R. Lansdale. It stars Sam Shepard, Michael C. Hall and Don Johnson. Music is by Jeff Grace and cinematography is by Ryan Samul. 1989 Texas and when Richard Dane (Hall) shoots and kills a burglar in his home, his life shifts into very dark places. A quality neo-noir pulper, Cold in July thrives because it never rests on its laurels. It consistently throws up narrative surprises, spinning the protagonists and us the audience into different territories. Fronted by three striking lead performances, each portraying a different type of character who bounce off of each other perfectly, the pic also has that late 80s swaggering appeal. Be it Grace's shifty synth based score, or the way Samul's photography uses primary colours for bold bluster, it's period reflective and tonally in keeping with the story. With substance in the writing, moody and dangerous atmosphere unbound and tech credits at the high end, this one is recommended with confidence to neo-noir fans. 8/10

Cold In July brings synthesised chills, bloody sleet and fatherly responsibilities. The distinction between murder, manslaughter and self-defence is one that continues to grow more appropriate in America with each passing year. How does one determine the truth when only one key witness is available to divulge in their perspective? Especially when the odds are in their favour by accidentally shooting a “wanted felon” in the eye. The police view it as heroism. The general public questioning its intent. The victim’s father overwhelmed with rage and demented turmoil, threatening the safety of the family thrown into the icy-cold chills of crime. Mickle’s intentionally masculine crime thriller is one that evokes themes of fatherhood. The paternal rights and responsibilities of their children who may, or may not, be following the path of sin. Ever increasing the protectorship of their guardian figure for the sake of the family they have lovingly crafted. It’s a natural instinct. To protect our own flesh and blood, no matter the cost. But what if that expenditure is too severe? What if their existence is causing suffering to others? The morality of these two fathers, the shooter and the victim’s patriarch, is tested through unlawful extremities. Challenges that conjure inner turmoil. And it’s only through Mickle’s astute direction do we as viewers journey down this careening route of masculinity. What starts off as a simplistic revenge thriller soon complicates itself into an absorbingly comedic drama, whilst still shrouded in pulpy neo-noir aesthetics. Grace’s booming synthesised score and Samul’s ornate use of vivid neon backdrops cement the noir elegance. Yet it’s Mickle’s insistence in shifting genres, adding a quirky aura of surrealism to the mix, that acts as gritty adhesive. Does it work? Not quite. The brutal tension that is meticulously built up in the first hour is palpable. Slow panning through tight corridors. Strikes of lightning illuminating the bleak darkness of 80’s Texas. The atmosphere compact with nullified thrills. Then the plot thickens. The local police become involved, a recruited Private Investigator struts his stuff and suddenly the genre changes. Intrinsic comedy is injected through Johnson’s character, contrasting against Shepard and Hall’s intimidatingly serious performances. Unfortunately, this relieves the suffocating tension that preceded it, relying on a clichéd yet stylistic conclusive shootout with moments of jarring humour. Whilst it does add characterisation, Mickle’s screenplay rarely furthers itself by being weighed down by overly basic dialogue. Conversational scenes, particularly between the two fathers, seemed muted. Lacking in fire and anger. If the script had been tighter with some sharper tongues for the characters, the complacent genre shift would’ve been more forgiving. The two were unable to mesh cohesively. That’s not a detriment to the overall technicality and theatricality of Cold In July. It remained bitterly deadly throughout and utterly watchable. If only the script had been tighter and the narrative differences more seamless when transitioning, we could’ve had ourselves an incredibly rare hidden gem of noir excellence.