As a concept, fate is incredibly universal, because it attempts to clarify and impose meaning on the very nature of existence. Is every minute action we take one more step toward reaching our predetermined destiny? Or, is life a completely random, chaotic series of events in which, as Sarah Connor would say, the only fate is what we make for ourselves?
Either way, it's a fascinating issue that can lead to plenty of jumping-off points, any of which could anchor an entertaining, thought-provoking movie. Why, then, is nearly every film about fate such a drag? Coming right on the heels of last month's ""Premonition,"" ""First Snow,"" the inauspicious debut of ""Children of Men"" co-writer Mark Fergus, is yet another dull, pointless entry in the fate/destiny subgenre.
Do you remember the 2002 film ""Life or Something Like It""? No, you don't. In that movie, an unconvincingly blond-coiffed Angelina Jolie played a reporter who learns from a homeless soothsayer that she will die in seven days. With the end in sight and nothing left to lose, Jolie cuts loose, learns the value of stopping to smell the roses and gains a newfound appreciation for life... or something like it.
Despite the somewhat intriguing premise, the overly predictable and sentimental film flopped pretty hard and swiftly faded into obscurity. Now, replace blond Jolie with a greasy-haired, slimy flooring salesman played by Guy Pearce, switch the homeless soothsayer for a trailer park fortune teller, then suck out any hint of playfulness or humor, and you've got ""First Snow.""
Pearce's character, Jimmy Starks, kills time in a small New Mexico town while his car is out of commission and has a mysterious, off-putting visit with the local clairvoyant (J.K. Simmons), who suddenly ends the session and gives him a refund. Eventually, the psychic's predictions start to come true, and Jimmy travels back to discover what got the guy so frazzled before. He learns that he is destined to die when it first snows, and after a little anger and a brief bout of denial, he goes about trying to deal with it.
This film is being inaccurately marketed as a thriller when, in actuality, it is a dour, plodding drama with hardly any action or excitement. It starts out promising with suitably snappy dialogue and a soundtrack peppered with bluesy Creedence tunes, but even that initial low-wattage energy soon grinds to a halt after Simmons' major revelation. Usually films with a decent, high-concept premise like this milk it for all its worth, throwing in shocking reversals and twists for better or worse to keep us on our toes, but Fergus has no interest in this.
Instead, ""First Snow"" actually gets progressively more boring after Jimmy learns of his fate, and we spend the entire rest of the movie watching him go around atoning for his glib immorality. There are some potential threats to his life, but these hardly register at all, and for the majority of the second half, we get to see Jimmy Starks making right. We're supposed to be entranced by this flawed man's journey toward redemption, but rather than root for him to change and beat that death sentence, you wish he'd shoot somebody already—or at least do something moderately interesting.
He doesn't, though, and the film limps along until it finally, jarringly concludes with an ending so lame and anticlimactic it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. You would literally get more enjoyment out of staying home and watching the Weather Channel for two hours.
It's a shame, too, because Pearce delivers a typically solid performance that the film doesn't deserve, as do Simmons, Rick Gonzalez and William Fichtner in smaller roles. Co-headliner Piper Perabo, starring as Jimmy's younger girlfriend, is completely wasted in a part that barely qualifies as a character sketch; there's no depth or feeling to their relationship whatsoever, and her only function in the film is to look good and worry. It's one of the most thankless leading roles in recent memory.
All things considered, ""First Snow"" is a dramatically inert, shallow, bleak indie exercise with a few stellar performances in search of a movie worthy of their talents. It's a thriller without thrills, a melodrama without passion and a thought-provoker without any stimulating ideas about anything. So we're left with a bland character study in which we're asked to care about a sleazy, manipulative, insipid man who gets to go home to Piper Perabo. Seriously, who gives a shit? Let it snow.
