THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW (A-minus) - Jim Cummings comes storming back from "Thunder Road" with another character on the brink of a mental breakdown, this time as a small-town sheriff's deputy battling to stay sober as he hunts a werewolf-style killer that defiles its female victims under the light of each full moon. Cummings again writes, directs and stars, and his bottled-up John Marshall can rarely keep his emotions in check, not unlike the mysterious creature who emerges during each lunar cycle. As with his previous effort, Cummings manages to make his character's meltdown both hilarious and harrowing, achieving more character development in 10 seconds of emoting than many others can over the course of an entire film.
John worries about his dad, the aging Sheriff Hadley (a wistful Robert Forster in his final role), who has a heart condition, and about his teenage daughter, Jenna (Chloe East), who is a pawn in the bitter breakup between John and his wife. John, as de facto sheriff while he pushes his dad to retire, takes his frustrations out on the rest of the sheriff's crew, big-footing crime scenes and barking out insults. Riki Lindhome is on hand as a detective who provides the voice of calm and reason.
As the body count rises and the townies question the aptitude of this collection of Barney Fifes, John internalizes all the public and personal strife, continuing to lash out in every direction as he flails for a life preserver. (Last time
we called him a cross between Jim Carrey and Jason Schwartzman. He's
one of those tightly wound souls we used to call a ketchup bottle.) Announcing to an AA gathering in the opening scene that he has been with the program six years -- though sober for only three -- he finds himself stumbling along the 12 steps
This is Cummings' show for 83 minutes (he knows how to get in and out of a story), and you'll either fall for his shtick or you won't. And he might be pushing it if he keeps portraying crazed cops on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But for now, he's 2-for-2 and a refreshing new voice on the scene.
THE NEST (B) - Sean Durkin, finally following up "Martha Marcy May Marlene," teams Jude Law and Carrie Coon for this '80s period piece about an ambitious but delusional financial analyst who drags his wife and two kids back to his home turf of London, where their family structure just further disintegrates. Despite strong performances, the results are mixed.
Like with "Martha," Durkin creates a slow burn of a narrative that pivots on the tension between a couple at odds with each other, in this case boastful Rory (Law) and his unhappy American wife Allison (Coon). He is trying to recapture some former glory as a golden boy, but you can tell from the start that it's all a big bluff. She wants to train horses and riders, but shipping her prized equine across the pond creates problems, and Allison just cannot abide the role of trophy wife at British social gatherings, especially when she has to listen to her husband shovel the cocktail-chatter bullshit.
Rory has imprisoned his family in a creepy manor in the countryside, and the kids suffer the indignities typical of the era -- bickering parents who can't be bothered to do the simple parenting tasks, such as getting the kids to school on time. Teenage Sam (a sharp Oona Roche) acts out rebelliously, partying with her friends and talking smack to her parents over legitimate grievances. Younger Benjamin suffers from tween angst and neglect, at times a boy who just wants his mommy and daddy, a simple plea that often falls on deaf ears.
Law and Coon, along with the kids, dig deep for emotional resonance, but Durkin too often drags this out as if he's about to spring a horror-movie surprise on you, but that ghost in the machine never jumps out. It's a mildly clever misdirection, but it's a disappointment nonetheless. Still, he knows how to set an ominous mood, and the cast does its best to pull this one out.
BONUS TRACKS
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