[This review was written in 1999. I hope to revisit it sometime soon and give it more thought, as this is something of a "capsule" review.]
a review by Jeffrey Overstreet
In a blurred picture from someone’s memory, we see a boy and a girl run down the beach laughing and holding hands. It is a picture of childlike joy, discovery, and innocence. But as the picture comes into focus, so does the dilemma at the heart of Snow Falling on Cedars. Here is a young American boy holding hands with a Japanese girl while World War II looms on the horizon. And it’s not just the parents who will intervene to disrupt their young love… history itself will march in and pry them apart, causing damage that will influence the rest of their lives dramatically.
Scott Hicks’ adaptation of the marvelous historical mystery by David Guterson is remarkably true to the book, considering that the novel leans heavily on the introspection of its characters to tell its story.
While structured as an intense courtroom drama, the larger story is told in tangents as we enter the heads of those entangled in the “whodunit”. Through their memories and their fears, we learn that this is much more than a murder mystery. It’s a lament of life’s unfairness, a portrait of obsession, and an exploration of how grace and forgiveness is the only hope for relief from paralyzing and debilitating grudges.
On an island just off the coast of Washington, an expert fisherman has drowned, and foul play is suspected. A Japanese man who was the last to see the fisherman is brought in on suspicion of murder, and the key to his conviction or acquittal lies in the hands of the man who once ran down the beach hand in hand with the wife of the accused. What transpires reveals that sometimes suspicion is more powerful than reason.
Hicks’ is blessed with an excellent cast, and his work with them is excellent in spite of the lack of high-emotion scenes. Max Von Sydow has a small but crucial part as the defense attorney; every time he’s on screen he brings much-needed energy and life to the proceedings. James Cromwell brings gravity and sincerity to his role as the judge (How refreshing! A judge that isn’t in some way tangled up in the secrets behind the case!) Youki Kudoh is marvelous as Hatsue, a girl torn between a sense of tradition and her politically-incorrect love for a “white boy”. Her face is a wonderful canvas on which the story’s central conflict plays out. Kazuo Miyamoto, the man she marries, maintains his composure while the story gives us glimpses of the anger and fear that he hides. James Rebhorn, who has played hardnosed prosecuting attorneys too often (TV’s Law and Order), is nevertheless effectively wicked without overplaying the part.
But the movie depends most upon Ethan Hawke’s performance. Hawke is the journalist torn between his responsibility to tell the truth and his resentment toward the woman who left him behind. Sam Shepard is the ghost of his father, haunting him wherever he goes with an example of integrity and responsibility. Hawke is very effective for the film’s first half, gazing wistfully off into the memories that plague him. But after a while, I grew anxious for him to say and do more that would acquaint us with his personality, not just his history. His flashbacks become tedious, echoing key voices from his past too redundantly, as though the screenwriter distrusted the audience to remember the importance of prominent lines. His wistful gazes soon resemble boredom, which in probably reflected on the faces of many in the audience.
Now, to be fair, it is true that many will find this movie boring, because many will have come to see a Murder Mystery… a thrilling tangle of clues leading up to an exhilarating conclusion. This is not that kind of mystery. The characters speak very little, but their actions, their memories, and their silences speak ever so much more. While many critics are complaining about the slow pace and the melancholy of the film, I found that it gave me a lot of room to contemplate what was going on between the lines, behind the scenes, inside the heads of those in the courtroom. Perhaps Hicks might have found ways to make the film more engaging in spite of its lack of action; Michael Mann’s The Insider was three hours long and it felt like an action movie in spite of the fact that it was built out of long and intense conversations.
Certainly not a movie for the impatient, Cedars demands that you surrender your concerns about the murder mystery at stake and instead consider just how much influence history, both personal and political, has over our perceptions of those close to us. When the day of judgment for the accused finally comes, flashbacks have brought us to see everyone in that courtroom a little differently. Now we’re as concerned about a silent but meaningful glance between two individuals as we are what the witnesses on the stand have to say.
I was fortunate enough to read Guterson’s book when it first came out, before it became an over-hyped bestseller. The film doesn’t stand a chance of revealing the intricacies of the book. But it does powerfully re-create the history, capture the essence of Guterson’s characters, and carry us through hypnotized by artful, breathtaking cinematography. And how many films challenge us to think about the virtues of NOT getting what we want? In the year of American Beauty, Snow Falling on Cedars is a still small voice prompting us to a higher love than self-love. Kudos to Scott Hicks for bringing the story to a different kind of audience. Just remember to grab a good cup of coffee before you take a seat; that way you won’t run the risk of being lulled to sleep by the combined beauty and power of the snow, the trees, and silence.
Director – Scott Hicks
Writers – Ron Bass and Scott Hicks, based on the novel by David Guterson
Director of photography – Robert Rchardson
Editor – Hank Corwin
Music – James Newton Howard
Production designer – Jeannine Oppewall
Producers – Kathleen Kennedy, Frank Marshall, Harry J. Ufland and Ron Bass
Universal Pictures. 130 minutes. Rated PG-13.
STARRING: Ethan Hawke (Ishmael Chambers), James Cromwell (Judge Fielding), Richard Jenkins (Sheriff Art Moran), James Rebhorn (Alvin Hooks), Sam Shepard (Arthur Chambers), Max von Sydow (Nels Gudmundsson), Youki Kudoh (Hatsue Miyamoto) and Rick Yune (Kazuo Miyamoto).
Tags: Literature
November 27th, 2008 at 11:17 am
I like much of what you say, Jeff, but I see a much deeper reason for the lack of action/dialogue, for the silence and the snow. Having read the book and thought at length about it, I find it speaks volumes about isolation–about us isolating ourselves not only from one another but also, and most importantly, from God. This is a small community; like many others of its kind, both before the war and right up to the present, such communities are often encased in rigid, nay frigid, layers of closed off, unpermitted emotion. The snow, to me, becomes a symbol of people and communities seeking to give the outward appearance of being “whiter than snow”; instead, the pristine snow folds itself in layers upon deep, hurtful emotions, resentments, ugliness. The snow and the silence are metaphors for isolation–for what happens to us when we sheath ourselves in bubble wrap and let no one, no One, in. What better name to choose for Hawkes’ character than Ishmael–a name that resonates with two classics in the Western canon. Yes, the nationalities portray the time period, but they too, speak of peoples who often set themselves apart emotionally, presenting a very different exterior to the world than that which lies in their hearts. I’m not saying this well. For years there was no guide to the novel, so these are the ideas I came up with on my own. I guess I’d better go read what Sparknotes has to say, lol.