Cleopatra Entertainment: Frost (2022) - Reviewed

Images courtesy of Cleopatra Entertainment

Heavy metal vocalist turned exploitation horror director Brandon Slagle has been at it since the early 2000s, starting out with homegrown fare such as The Dark Avengers and House of Mansion.  After COVID-19 shuttered production on his films for a few years, the director returned with an explosive turnout of films including but not limited to Breakout and The Flood.  Among his latest efforts is the Cleopatra Entertainment released freezing cold survival thriller Frost, a microbudget scenic thriller that turns into a chamber piece of sorts before jumping the rails completely with an absurdly outlandish shock-and-awe finale.  Not since Dominic Murphy’s bizarro “biopic” White Lightnin’ from 2009 has a film crouched down and made diarrhea all over the bed in the very last minute.

 
Pregnant city girl Abby (Devanny Pinn) is on her way to the remote wintry countryside to visit her estranged alcoholic mountain man father Grant (The Road Warrior and Commando legend Vernon Wells) with news of her expecting.  After the two butt heads with the usual back and forth banter about how things would go if mom were still part of the picture, the two venture out in her swanky new automatic car.  Within minutes of getting on the road with the old-fashioned Grant hastily managing the wheel at Abby’s behest, the car loses control and swerves off of the road into the side of a mountain cliff.  Punctured by trees with broken bones, lacerations and steadily declining temperatures, Grant crawls out with the intention of going to call for help while Abby bunkers down in the car for the night, using whatever means she can to keep the vehicle warm while fending off hungry wild wolves.
 
A mostly good slow-burning survival endurance thriller ala The Shallows until it decides it’s not content with being a hard-boiled actioner and proceeds to defecate all over the screen.  I can’t talk about what happens in act three except to say it’s the stale rotten cotton candy disciples of A Serbian Film would eat up (no pun intended).  Can an ending negate a film entirely in spite of the care and craftsmanship that went in preceding it?  Usually dark or bleak endings, however disturbing, are built upon and unleashed within the framework of the world of the movie, but here it is literally like the director simply dropped his drawers and began wagging his penis around.  It is literally that mercenarily offensive and abruptly out of nowhere.  That’s not to say shock can’t be used effectively in art but here it is flat out misused.

 
Aside from the smelly turd coda (you can look it up online if you must know), everything leading up to it was mostly working.  The now crusty but legendary Vernon Wells is generally good as the aged alcohol soft middle-aged father though most of this is focused on Devanny Pinn just trying to keep herself and her baby alive.  That its reasonably well shot in scope ratio by Kelton Jones who presents loads of scenic drone photography and offers up a suitably mournful electronic score by Fernando Perdomo only serves to underline just how tragic of a misfire this turned out to be.  Effects makeup is pretty good, rendered by Megan Monroe and Oliver Poser, though again the film goes for a shock so brutally over the top their efforts feel shortchanged.  Co-produced by the two leading stars, one wonders how both of them felt about the water slide of sewage middle fingered ending foisted upon a completely unsuspecting viewership.

 
Brandon Slagle apparently isn’t going away anytime soon, but for a survival thriller about a pregnant woman trapped in a car perched alongside a cliff, the way this thing wraps up ensures I won’t be seeking out more works of his anytime soon.  A halfway decent film that abruptly turns really awful when you least expect it, Frost like other Slagle efforts is hitting the small screen for a viewership scrolling through their firestick for the newest low budget digitally rendered thriller on the lineup.  Somewhere in Frost is a good movie you could recommend until it decided to fasten its edge lord ankle and wrist cuffs proudly for no apparent reason.  Survival horror films set in the winter nature are always a good bet and not all of them have to end well, but unfortunately this kinda falls into the camp of, say, Nick Palumbo or Fred Vogel, mean for the sake of it.  The equivalent of a dead baby T-shirt.

--Andrew Kotwicki