Snowpiercer JBTF10...
Estimated Read-Time = (a scant!) 12 minutes
JBTF10? Worth Watching.
Review synopsis: Tough to stop the movie and reflect here, which is a good sign. I’m anxious to see where this goes.
Such a deft bit of work with tone and world-building by this director (and perhaps writer?) in the first 10 minutes. It feels like a caper movie in the sense that we must build everything up, so we can enjoy it all unfold. Who cares what bank or casino, or what’s really in the briefcase. We simply need to know what’s at stake so we can enjoy the journey. And if the destination at the end happens to be good too, well that’s just a bonus. Forgive, again, a pun, but this feels like a movie that will work or not depending on your willingness to climb aboard. This is a film called Snowpiercer, about Chris Evans and the last of humanity, in a snowy, barren future, living on a train that never stops. If you start wondering whether or not that all makes sense halfway through this film, then shame on you.
Stars: Chris Evans, Jamie Bell, Tilda Swinton
Directed by: Joon-ho Bong (as Bong Joon Ho)
Written by: Joon-ho Bong (screenplay), Kelly Masterson (screenplay)
Check streaming availability via: JustWatch
JBTF10 Review: Snowpiercer
Found by Netflixing: n/a
Any film with a name like Snowpiercer is a film that begins balanced on the tip of a knife.
On the one hand, in the pantheon of film titles, Snowpiercer reads as wonderfully disarming. And badass. Snowpiercer is a title that’s comfortable showing a little ankle in order to sell some tickets.
On the other, Snowpiercer does sound like something a 4-year-old kid would name his favorite toy. Of course, you’d TRY and offer a more reasonable name for the 4-year-old’s sharp puppet. But the 4-year-old would yell, “NO! That’s not his NAME! You’re a BAD DADDY!” Leaving you to just mumble your compliance and nod because you’re too shell-shocked and exhausted to have an opinion anymore.
Bestowing children and films with odd names can turn out similarly, in that both can suffer from a sort of retroactive prophecy. After a successful run, the odd moniker seems to enhance that success. But if things play out all fucked, the peculiar moniker becomes an albatross ... poor kid/flick never had a chance with a name like that.
On title alone, I’m a little giddy before Snowpiercer’s first 10 even begin. I want this film to soar.
We begin with exposition, but at least it isn’t a crawl or a venerable old actor narrating to us. Through snippets of footage and newscast audio, we quickly learn that this is a world in turmoil. The world has grown too hot. And nations are banding together, bullying out a solution to this problem despite massive protests. We’re going to put a bunch of some chemical up in the air all around the world. Hopefully, this move will bring Earth’s temperatures back down to manageable levels.
We’re given just enough visual and aural information for context and tone. Context = we’re desperate. Tone = dire. And then we are given an image both haunting and lovely.
We cut to a blue sky. It is silent. Far above us, a jet enters the frame, trailing some type of vapor. Then a second. And then a third. We hold here for a breath, watching this solution unfold far above us. Helpless. Much as those standing witness below would have been.
Kudos here, as we’ve been front-loaded with the information needed to appreciate this moment. So it can actually unfurl in front of us and feel like something. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a director here ...
We then cut to a dark, still, frozen world. We peer out of a car at numerous others, cold and abandoned. We linger here just long enough for this dead world to register, and then the shot is interrupted by light and [something] and a concussive noise. BOOM.
Mutherfuckin’ Snowpiercer roars by, all the more impressive given these bleak surroundings. Just a tad of copy informs us that this train and its occupants are the only things left moving in this frozen world. This is an ark. And you know what, I’m fine with the copy-assist here. If you were truly coming into this film cold (*cough*), this last bit of info at the end of the prologue feels in no way lazy.
And the first thing we see inside of this super high-tech last bastion of society? A sturdy metal door. The second thing? A man holding an assault rifle walking through it. Welcome to Snowpiercer.
As we watch some put-upon looking cops (guards?) walk through the train, copy informs us that 17 years have passed since Earth froze over. Such an oddly specific amount of time. And of no relevance to, we, the viewers at this point. My guess is that its relevance is revealed to us later in the film.
These copguards have come back to conduct a head count of a large group of people. The contrast between these two groups of people is striking. Aside from looking bored, our copguards in their dark-blue uniforms look clean-cut and well-fed. The other occupants of this car look the opposite, standing tiredly at attention, dumpy and worn, dressed in brown, dirty rags.
A copguard steps forward, ordering these people to sit down one row at a time, front to back, as he takes count with a clicker. Three or so rows back, all sit down but one. Chris Evans! Though, great pains have been taken to make it not look like Chris Evans (a stocking cap). The scene leaves little doubt that we’ve just met our hero. I wonder for a moment if something is about to go down.
Nope. His friend pulls Chris Evans down and asks why he’s being crazy. Chris Evans says he’s counting. We see he’s watching the doors and the copguards beyond. A thinking-man hero? That would be nice.
Their hushed conversation continues. But honestly I drifted off for a second here, thinking about how, months ago, an agent arrived at Chris Evans’s diamond blimp mansion. Here he handed Chris Evans a script and began to summarize its plot. But Chris Evans, looking down and seeing the word Snowpiercer printed in Courier 12 on its front page raised a hand and silenced the man. Then, with voice quiet, said only, “A movie with this title must be made ... and I must be its star …”
(Blimp or no, let’s agree it probably mostly went down like that.)
So with a bit more hushed talking, we learn that SOMETHING is happening SOON. What? Who cares. The movie is still moving forward so lithely I find myself just rolling along.
Out of nowhere, a copguard asks the crowd if there are any experienced violinists amongst them. An older man and woman step forward. He explains they just need one. Did he say one set of hands? How creepy and odd. Good feelings are not emanating from this conversation. They go back and forth a bit. The woman tries to go with the man and any doubts of whose side the copguards are on end when one of the copguards cracks the butt of his rifle into the old woman’s face. I feel like this old man will not show up in the film again. But, as we see next, at least the woman lives?
She, with the rest of the ragged folks, is then shown in line for food. Rations — or, rather, inky, gelatinous bricks lined up in a box. Again, talk of when the thing should happen. Not now. Soon. And I start hoping soon is in the next four-ish minutes. I’m in the movie. The director has given me context for this world, set the stakes, invited me inside, and I know who to root for.
Whatever happens has to involve moving forward, because these people are bottom-rung. After this windup, if the film can just enjoy itself as it moves forward, I feel like we’re in for a good time. And you find yourself doing exactly what our hero is doing, straining for a better look at that next car. And wondering what’s to be found in the car after.
Our hero and friend then walk back through the train, which is a wonderful excuse to reinforce how bad these folks have it. The place they call home looks like a slum crammed into an old submarine, bunks stacked five or so high on either side of these compartments. They’re looking for a specific ration for some reason?
A little boy has the brick they’re after. And he’s a jerk about giving it up. Cute little jerks are still jerks. But this brick is important because Chris Evans tells the kid to name his price for it. The kids wants “the ball” for an hour. And the way he says it had me hoping the ball was some old, junky, coveted VR game all the kids would fight over. The only escape from the horrible reality of their everyday lives.
But ah man, the next shot eventually reveals that nope, the ball is just a trashy ball made of trash. That’s depressing. But the kid got what he wanted and so did Chris Evans. We’re at the very back of the train now, sitting with John Hurt who, because this is John Hurt, we feel like we know and trust and love instantly. Of all the worn-down, beat-up people on this train, John Hurt’s character seems to be most of all.
Chris Evans removes a small pill from the brick that contains a message. They call it a red letter. And it’s the message they’ve been waiting for. All it says is a name. Bong Su. We’re informed he’s a security expert. He’s confined in the jail car he designed. And they’re going to have to break him out. That’s crazy.
And that's 10 ...
