Ignatiy Vishnevetsky, a reviewer on the stuck-in-limbo PBS show Ebert Presents At the Movies, stated on one of the last episodes that with film, context is everything. What one knows about a particular project—the director and their previous work, the source material, the studio releasing it, etc.—should all be taken into consideration when assessing its worth.
In this reviewer’s opinion, however, that’s pretty much hokum. Whether in a classroom, a multiplex, your living room, or on a tablet, films should ideally be able to stand on their own merit, exclusively within the boundaries of the first frame to the last, with no outside information helping or harming them. Zookeeper still sucks regardless of how one feels about The Wedding Singer (which had the same director).
But then a film like On the Ice comes along, which makes it hard to ignore the fact that many Sundance organizations around the country have donated money to get it off the ground. That many big names in the world of indie film have lent their support, be it financial, emotional or otherwise. That it’s the first feature from writer/director Andrew Okpeaha MacLean, an Iñupiaq Inuit who’s crafted a rare story featuring his own people, and consequently has support from some Native American organizations. Or even that the film kindly credits its extras.
So On the Ice certainly seems to have its heart in the right place, and on that basis alone might deserve some support. Unfortunately, within those pesky frame boundaries, it doesn’t live up to its promise.
The story, a thriller/drama, takes place at the top of the world in the small town of Barrow, Alaska (the same site of the famous whale rescue from the ’80s, coincidentally documented in the recent Drew Barrymore movie Big Miracle). Much like any small town in America, the teenage population shows a tendency toward rebellion motivated by isolation, in this case taking the form of an affinity for hip-hop music, and, unfortunately, drugs.