Mark Reviews Movies: CENTIGRADE

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 27, 2020

There is the question of what, dramatically, can be done with a story about two people trapped in a car, frozen shut and buried under snow along a rarely traveled road. The screenplay for Centigrade by Brendan Walsh (who also directed) and Daley Nixon touches upon the real drama of this situation—of two people gradually turning against each other in the face of frustration and hopelessness. They've also invented just enough extraneous conflict to prevent the potential of this story to be fulfilled.

It opens with a discomforting sense of claustrophobia, as Naomi (Genesis Rodriguez) awakens in the passenger seat of a rental car. The windshield and windows are covered in thick ice, and Naomi's door is stuck. Her husband Matt (Vincent Piazza) discovers the other doors are jammed shut. The windows won't roll down, either, but they don't need to for the couple to understand why it's so dark in the car. It's buried in snow.

Walsh keeps his camera in tight focus on the characters' faces during this introduction, which only heightens the feeling of entrapment. The rest of the movie has the challenge of maintaining this sensation, without becoming too visually and tonally static. For assorted reasons of narrative and style to be discussed later, that sense of confinement is never stronger than it is during the opening minutes here.

The movie, set in 2002, is "inspired" by true events, which means this particular story probably didn't happen, despite a coda explaining the eventual fates of the three characters involved. Yes, there will be three people in this car by the end, because Naomi, an author who's in this situation on account of a small book tour in Norway, is pregnant. Once that detail is introduced, one hopes that the screenwriters will find a way to avoid the obvious development. It is, though, also the most obvious way in which the filmmakers attempt to add unnecessary tension to an already-tense scenario, so the moment in which Naomi goes into labor almost instantly feels like an inevitability.

Before any of that, though, Walsh and Nixon focus on the smaller details. Their only cellphone isn't getting a signal because of the snow. Naomi and Matt only have two bottles of water and a single sandwich, which they divide into enough portions for 12 days. As for necessary bodily functions, Matt suggests a towel, and a roadside kit, filled with candles to provide the proper moody glow (The fact that they light means there's oxygen, Matt explains, but the actual burning is somehow never an issue), becomes a waste receptacle that must be rather foul after a few days.

This is all more or less procedural—what obstacles exist and how these characters plan to survive. As for the idea of breaking a window, Matt rejects it, recalling the story of a man who survived in a capsized boat by staying in place (It's a completely different situation, but the rationale behind it is one opinion on the matter). Besides, a broken window can't be fixed, and the windows might be the only thing keeping the frozen air from overwhelming them. Naomi thinks it's the right idea to try to escape, but she reluctantly agrees to follow her husband's advice (Which of them is correct is left open to interpretation, but certain developments, such as an actual broken window, aren't followed through with in a logical manner or just completely overlooked).

The real drama here is watching this relationship, apparently under strain even before being trapped in a car together, deteriorate under the stress of the situation and some unspoken tension that now, with nothing else to do, comes to the forefront. Their initial bickering, as Matt acts as if his wife is overreacting to not being able to open her door, escalates into smoldering passive-aggressiveness, as each one employs a guilt trip or the silent treatment, and further into full-blown arguments.

It's simple, yes, but it's also relatable, understandable, and effective. Rodriguez and Piazza get to the core of this widening disconnect, giving us a genuine sense of the couple's relationship being picked apart, until there's nothing but frustration and resentment remaining.

The big question, then, is whether or not this is enough. It could be—maybe even should be. Walsh and Nixon, though, don't seem to trust the simplicity of this interpersonal conflict. Hence, we get the pregnancy, as well as the eventual birth, along with some close calls and a most questionable lack of thinking when two windows are eventually opened (While the reasoning for keeping them closed is sound, once a window is broken, as Matt points out, it is broken, so why don't they do anything with this new fact, except to maintain the premise?).

In terms of the filmmaking, Walsh uses every conceivable angle within the car, as well as cleverly staging the characters within the limited space (One shot has their heads, at different distances, look joined). Undercutting some of the claustrophobic tension, though, are multiple wide shots of the landscape surrounding the car. On a narrative and a formal level, then, a lack of trust in the simplicity of the material really is the key issue with Centigrade.

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