“Snowpiercer” (2013) is as violent as it is brilliant—which is to say very, very much so. Set in a dystopian future when a failed experiment to reverse the effects of climate change buries all life under a frozen tundra and the only survivors board the eponymous train circling the globe, the story follows Curtis (Chris Evans), leader of the impoverished, abused population at the back of the train, as he tries to overthrow the rich, decadent folks at the front and thereby destroy the totalitarian hierarchy that dominates so ruthlessly. The film fires on all cylinders.
Its target: Hollywood. The overall effect of the movie, however, is more than simply mockery.
“Snowpiercer” may beat up on Hollywood like a pitiful punching bag, but the end result is a moving work of art in itself, not simply a bruising parody. First, the film transcends the modern-day obsession with hero-villains or “dark” protagonists by depicting a complex, verisimilar character in Curtis. Naturally, he has some reservations about leading a caboose-full of people into what is most likely their violent deaths, but as an audience member we never stop rooting for him. In fact, he even subsumes the dark hero archetype (think:Walter White) into his complexity toward the end of the movie in a poignant scene when he confesses to past atrocities. And with this new information we now see Curtis in a new light that further explains his previous reservations. He does not reduce to these past sins, they do not define him, and his struggle and character are all the greater for being able to face them.
Second, the director staggers the film with periods of intense action reminiscent of Hollywood blockbusters, absurd scenes that seem more apt for a gruesome slapstick comedy show (like when a petite, smiling teacher pulls out an Uzi), and twists and turns that leave the audience stammering. In other words, the sheer scope of this film puts most Hollywood love-children to shame. But this is not the director’s only goal to be sure. His mastery of cinematic atmospheres, whether its action, absurdity, or surprise, lends to the powerful message throughout the film. The action involves bloody medieval-style fighting and serves to yank the theme of class struggle down from its ideological heights and into its realistic implications for the real world. The absurdity of some of the scenes underscores both the backwardness of the hierarchy in the train and its brainwashed worshippers at the front. And the twists turn what seems like a linear plot into one with depth and magnetism, keeping the audience entranced for the whole ride.
Finally, “Snowpiercer” is a technical triumph as well. The cramped, narrow corridors of the slim train leave little room for shots that encompass the whole scene or even capture the main focus but a steady, kinetic camera paired with clever angles produces a fast-paced film with seldom awkward moments. And there is beautiful cinematography juxtaposed with the filth and squalor of the back of the train: a torchbearer charging through a darkened corridor, or a tiny snowflake drifting through a vicious fight scene.
Go see “Snowpiercer” for the change of pace from traditional Hollywood movies, and stay for the ride itself. It’s a breath of fresh air for lungs that desperately need some originality, a thawing of the frozen cinematic landscape that is Hollywood.