Takes place in the days before Christmas near a little-known border crossing on the Mohawk reservation between New York State and Quebec. Here, the lure of fast money from smuggling presents a daily challenge to single moms who would otherwise be earning minimum wage. Two women - one white, one Mohawk, both single mothers faced with desperate circumstances - are drawn into the world of border smuggling across the frozen water of the St. Lawrence River. Ray and Lila... and the New York State Trooper who ultimately brings the two to justice.
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In this era of red state vs. blue state dynamics, it's crucial to remember the things we have in common over those that divide us. The two female protagonists in Frozen River are divided by racial, cultural, social, even political barriers. Yet both are mothers, both have lost their husbands, and both are in financial straits so dire they must resort to desperate measures in this gripping, slice-of-life character drama that knows how to ratchet up the nerve-wracking suspense. Written and directed by Courtney Hunt, Frozen River explores the lives of contemporary women who are basically invisible in mainstream Hollywood movies. Ray (Melissa Leo) is a bedraggled forty-something living in a junky trailer park in upper upstate New York, across the river from Canada, attempting to raise two sons on the salary from her dead-end, part-time job at the local discount store. But Ray's dream of a double-wide trailer is dashed by her runaway husband, a gambling addict who's stolen her savings and vamoosed a week before Christmas. Ray is already reduced to feeding her boys popcorn and Tang for breakfast, and gassing up her car two bucks' worth at a time; there's not much more scrimping she can do. She's also determined not to let her fifteen-year-old son, T. J. (Charlie McDermott), drop out of school to get a job. Casing out a Bingo parlor on the Mohawk tribal lands that abut her town, Ray spots her husband's car in the parking lot, and follows it deep into Mohawk territory when it's driven off by a strange young woman. Thus, Ray meets Lila Littlewolf (Misty Upham), who claims she "found" the car abandoned at the bus station. A young Mohawk widow living alone in a tiny camper, whose one-year-old child has been appropriated by her in-laws, Lila can provide no more details about Ray's missing husband. But she knows where to get some ready cash, and tricks Ray into driving with her across the frozen river into Canada to pick up two illegal Chinese aliens and smuggle them back across the border in the trunk. Ray is petrified the whole way. While toughened by life and armed with a pistol she'll use if she has to, she's never resorted to crime. She's not much mollified by Lila's stoic assurances that the troopers never stop cars driven by white women, or that since the Mohawk lands extend on both sides of the river, U. S. laws have no jurisdiction over "free trade" between the tribes. But the money is a godsend that allows Ray to take her boys out for a meal, so she conquers her misgivings, and strikes up a wary alliance with Lila for a few more runs. The hesitant bond that forms between these two marginalized, yet steely women is the backbone of the story, but don't expect some cozy little domestic drama. As their smuggling runs become more dicey, their cargo more fragile, and their contacts more sinister, danger threatens from every quarter--from the law, from the wide expanse of the unpredictable frozen river itself, or from the perils of kids left home alone. But this is no genre thriller. The characters remain absolutely life-sized throughout, flawed in their stubborn ways and dubious choices, perhaps, but also indomitable in the most unexpected moments, refusing to knuckle under to life's hard knocks. Credit quietly forceful and sympathetic performances from both actresses for drawing viewers into their characters' plight. Leo displays all the frayed edges of a woman at wit's end--battling to maintain control over her resentful teenage son, or to make nice with the callous young floor manager at work who holds her family's fate in his careless grasp--yet strong enough to make tough moral choices when she must. Upham conveys volumes of unspoken feeling in a single wistful glance, or unexpected smile. Ominous, yet effective, this is a hard-luck story told with grit and grace. |
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