This doesn’t hit with the lightning-bolt impact of Thunder Road then again, precious few films do. (We’ll get to the second in a moment.) And if that double-stuffed idea doesn’t always gel via this particular combination, it’s not for a lack of storytelling expertise or filmmaking technique on Cummings’ part. It’s the personal demons rather than old-fashioned monsters that get you, see, which is one of two central tenets of Cummings’ genre exercise/portrait of a fuck-up mash-up.
You just hope the sheriff can stop whoever it is before his own backslide into bad habits turns him into a mouthwash-swilling, self-destructing wreck. The town definitely seems to have a nasty lycanthrope problem on its hands. Soon, more bodies start showing up in the same mangled state, and we the audience get several good looks at a giant, lupine killer. Neither are the locals who ran into the couple that night. Her boyfriend ( American Vandal‘s Jimmy Tatro) isn’t much help. Marshall and his fellow police, notably Officer Julia Robson (Riki Lindhome) and the retiring Sheriff Hadley (the late, great Robert Forster) - who’s also John’s dad - are vexed by the crime, what the bite marks and the female victim found missing her vagina. There’s a heavy Reagan-era slashers and Stephen King-ish vibe to Snow Hollow, as randy tourists go from hostile encounters with townies to hot tub canoodling to one ending up a blood-splattered corpse. The question becomes: What happens when you drop that unstable, hair-trigger type into the middle of an ’80s horror-movie homage?
THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW MOVIE
And if his first movie suggested he was a potential poet laureate of male repression, this follow-up confirms it’s an ongoing theme. The Alcohol Anonymous scene is even initially framed similarly to Cummings’ showstopping Thunder Road opening. They share the same halting, don’t-push-me-guy cadence, and more than a few deep-rooted issues. Marshall is like a once-removed cousin of that damaged soul. Building off Cummings’ award-winning short film of the same name, his feature starts with an unbroken 12-minute shot of a police officer having a nervous breakdown at a funeral, complete with a modern-dance interpretation of the title’s Bruce Springsteen tune. Played by writer-director Jim Cummings, Sheriff Marshall bears a strong resemblance to the cop at the center of his 2018 movie Thunder Road, one of the most exciting out-of-left-field debuts of the last few years. Should viewers experience a feeling of deja vu upon being introduced to The Wolf of Snow Hollow’s hero, we’re here to say: It’s not just you. The evidence isn’t exactly ruling out this outlandish claim, either.
THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW FULL
The savage nature of these killings, along with the fact that these grisly homicides happen during full moons, suggests that … well, some locals are saying it’s a werewolf. Someone in his sleepy hometown of Snow Hollow, Utah, is murdering folks.
THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW PLUS
Plus there’s a slightly bigger problem John has to contend with as well. There’s an edge to everything the guy says and does even when he’s standing still, he sort of thrums with barely contained rage. John has problems with his ex-wife, problems with his teenage daughter, problems with that dipshit town coroner, problems staying sober, problem keeping a lid on his temper. He’s not good with controlling his anger. “I’m not good with anger,” he says, and from the way this lawman is acting and the manner in which he’s addressing a number of folks offscreen, you know this is an understatement. Sheriff John Marshall is standing in front of his fellow AA members.
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