There isn't much one can say about the details of Cold in July's plot without giving away a lot of what makes this film so interesting and, despite the darkness, fun. What helps the film to work so well is that, just when you think you've got it all figured out, filmmaker Jim Mickle (along with co-writer Nick Damici) tosses a curve ball or ups the ante to take things in a different direction. The film is adapted from a book by Joe Lansdale.
The basic sketch of the plot is that Michael C. Hall plays Richard, a timid frame store owner in a small Texas town that would be happy to just move through life filling his role as middle-class father and good Christian. When a burglar breaks into his home, Richard accidentally kills the man. The burglar's father, played by Sam Shepard, shows up, apparently seeking revenge on Richard. Things begin to spiral into bizarre places and into unexpected territory when Richard realizes that there is more going on than what appears to him, and that there is a whole mess of wrong going on, involving not just criminals, but the police he's expecting to protect him.
Deep into the first act of this film I thought I had it pretty much figured (I assumed) and it seemed like a boring, perhaps even a little clumsy take on the Cape Fear scenario. Except it keeps taking left turns and allegiances shift, and then Don Johnson, seemingly enjoying the hell out of this one, shows up as a private investigator and the world these folks live in really seems to become a hot, sweaty Texas hell. And, until a big climax that is somewhat reminiscent of the excellent Rolling Thunder, there actually isn't much violence (except one crucial, sickening scene that is implied more than shown). Mickle and the actors play everything perfectly, taking this exploration of manhood (and illusions of manhood) to unexpected places without ever feeling overcooked, over-loud, or false. At a key moment when key actors see something horrifying, rather than overplay it as a chance for showy drama, Mickle sells it as something more realistic and thus more dreadful: the men are shocked into a kind of druggy silence, disbelief. Just like us sitting in the audience. This is pulp noir (or grindhouse cinema, if you prefer) at its best.
Screened in the theater. IFC Films, the US distributor, seems to be pretty committed to VOD, so I'm not sure it will go too wide (sadly).
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