“The Snowman struggles under the weight of its own considerable budget and expectations, offering little or nothing of the mood and atmosphere that’s so synonymous with Scandinavian film and television.”
We all love a good Nordic crime thriller, don’t we? There’s just something captivating about those mysterious grey, snow-covered wintry settings, and the rather serious and at times aloof nature of the Nordic people. It just draws us in…
Unfortunately just basing a film upon a Norwegian novel and having it set in its correct location, is nowhere near enough to qualify it as being anything like a good Nordic crime thriller.
The Snowman, a case in point, is the handiwork of director, Tomas Alfredson, the man tasked with directing 2008’s excellent Låt den rätte komma in (Let the right one in). Such fine past credentials should surely have hinted at much better than this rather beige offering.
We could talk about under-cooked characterisation, or a general paucity of suspense created, but perhaps the film’s chief flaw is its mad combination of accents. A mixture of soft Norwegian, identity-neutral, soft American, and even cockney English, all seem hopelessly out of place given the film’s wintry Oslo setting, particularly when you consider that theoretically pretty much every one of the cast is supposed to be a Norwegian, living a Norwegian life.
It’s all just confusing, and detracts heavily from a story that whilst functional enough, is not particularly earth-shatteringly original in its concept, anyway.
Harry Hole (Michael Fassbender), is the flawed detective who takes it upon himself to investigate a series of disappearances, aided by an accomplice, Katrine Bratt (Rebecca Ferguson), who is young and hungry for success and very much in awe of Hole’s reputation.
Passing cameos from Chloë Sevigny and Toby Jones, together with more significant parts from Charlotte Gainsbourg, J.K. Simmons – and not forgetting a particularly curious turn from Val Kilmer, playing a perma-pissed police detective who’s all ‘Dave Nice’ teeth and bad hair, certainly help to raise the film’s profile on paper, but again, they’re all rather out of place given the fundamentals of the setting and the story.
The Snowman struggles greatly under the weight of its own considerable budget and expectations, offering little or nothing of the mood and atmosphere that’s so synonymous with Scandinavian film and television.
Not entirely without its positives – it is at least visually beautiful – Alfredson’s film, on balance, is nothing more than a formulaic and fairly forgettable yarn. Were the story adapted for a U.S setting, or better still re-cast for native Norwegian speakers, perhaps The Snowman could have been an altogether different beast, but as it stands, it has to be chalked up as a significant missed opportunity.