Snow Falling on Cedars begins in a haze. We hear the ocean beneath us, can almost feel it moving, but nothing can be seen through the thick fog all around. Slowly the camera pulls in, closer and closer so that a shape is beginning to emerge. A boat eventually appears out of the fog, its captain frantically trying to start his engine and get some light to cut through the fog and get back to shore.
In these first few moments, director Scott Hicks assures that his crew will receive Oscar nominations in the cinematography and sound categories. But he has done nothing to win over the audience. Before you are even introduced to any of the characters or the first elements of the plot, derived from the novel by David Guterson, the film feels like it is dragging, and the prospect of sitting there for another two hours does not seem an encouraging one.
But sit there I did, and I was treated to what I found to be, at times, an interesting story. The captain of the ship entrenched in fog is found dead in the morning, and a Japanese fisherman, the last to see him alive, is accused of his murder. It is shortly after World War Two in this small fishing town, so throughout the trial there is an undercurrent of resentment towards the Japanese in general, and the defendant in particular. A chief source of contempt comes from our main character, Ethan Hawke, who plays a reporter covering the trial for the local newspaper whose childhood sweetheart (played by Youki Kuduh) just happens to be married to the accused.
"At times" interesting is unfortunately a clarification that must be made, because more often than not this richly layered story of murder, romance, and racial prejudice gets mired in too much imagery. Most of the movie is concerned with flashbacks to Hawke's earlier relationship with the young Japanese girl. These flashbacks involve secret rendezvous in the woods in which the scenery is used to set the mood of sensuality, a technique which might work if it had been done a little more sparingly. But instead the chemistry of the actors is put in a secondary role to the landscape, and it becomes much harder for the audience to identify with the passion of the characters because they are barely on-screen.
All of the flashbacks are given to us as if they were Hawke's own memories, but once Hawke and Kuduh are separated, him going to war and her being forced with her family into an internment camp, the flashbacks continue to focus on both of them. Hawke is suddenly able to remember events that he was not there to see. He "remembers" Kuduh's wedding to the accused and the couple's first night together. This sudden change in technique made me wonder at the purpose of even including the wedding scene in the film at all.
Usually these flashbacks drag on so much, repeating the same dialogue looped over itself twice or even three times, that the audience loses interest. My mind especially began to wander during a scene in which Hawke, off at war, receives a letter from Kuduh. At the internment camp, Kuduh's mother has discovered her secret love for Hawke and forbidden them to see each other again. This revelation is juxtaposed with Hawke in the middle of a battle, bullets whizzing by his head and chaos all around. The end result is that his emotional loss of her love is coupled with the very physical loss of his right arm.
At this point I was incredibly confused. I thought back to the events of the movie and realized I had never seen him use that arm, that in fact at several points it was clearly shown that he had no arm there to use. But I had not realized it, because the film did not have my complete attention.
The story is quite engaging at times, even though you have figured out the mystery long before the characters have. The subplot of racism is handled well and not made into a cliche as it has been in so many films before this one. And the film itself, with its extensive use of the landscape as visual imagery, is often quite beautiful. But it is too slow-paced and the visuals are too over-powering for anything else to matter. Unfortunately director Scott Hicks adapted this novel very well, without thinking that the pacing which worked in the book might not translate as well into film. Because of this one fatal flaw, I cannot recommend Snow Falling On Cedars for anything more than a future rental to curl up with some winter night when you're snowed in.
