n their way to a long weekend in upstate New York, George (Weber), Kim (Clarkson) and their son, Miles (Sullivan), accidentally hit a buck on a wintry backwoods road. Before they've even caught their collective breath, hunters emerge from the forest, waving their guns and excitedly talking about how they'd been tracking that same buck for almost a day. One of the hunters, Otis (Speredakos), is none too happy about the fact that one of the buck's antlers is cracked, his trophy ruined.
After a tense standoff with these locals, George retreats with his family to the house their friends have loaned to them, only to discover that their closest neighbor is none other than the menacing, wild-eyed Otis. Finding the occasional bullet hole in the house's walls and windows does little to calm the family's fears.
As might be expected, Miles' fears are the deepest, accentuated by his sensitivity (so says his mother, a psychologist) to the emotional volatility and remoteness of his father, a photographer who feels himself and his art compromised by having to do things such as sneaker ads. Miles' nightmarish imaginings, as children's often are, are confused and unrelenting.
All seems right with the world when George takes his son sleigh-riding one afternoon; that is, until Miles finds his father lying in the snow, bloodied and immobile. Running for help, Miles soon finds himself being pursued by what would seem to be the forest itself, calling to his mind, just before he loses consciousness, what a mysterious Native American told him the day before about the Wendigo, a voracious spirit that signifies the evils of rapaciousness and a world out of balance.
A moody and unique tale of horror
While not a perfect movie (whatever that is), Larry Fessenden's Wendigo is a deeply atmospheric, smart and chilling cinematic experience. The progression of the film's narrative is relatively unconventional. Far from predictable, the plot often moves suddenly and in surprising directions, which does make for some good frights, though at times it is somewhat awkwardly paced.
While kid Sullivan does an admirable job of portraying a sullen and sensitive child caught in a scary world, his constant, mute melancholy does make things a bit stagnant at times. The unaffected and dynamic performances of Weber and Clarkson give this film a sense of the real that makes the story that much more horrific, the only downside being that viewers may be reminded that, in the real world, people often mumble. But it's doubtful that they could've accomplished this without Fessenden's naturally flowing dialogue.
A work most independent (auteur Fessenden, who is also a working actor, has some definite and interesting opinions about and approaches to filmmaking), the low-budget Wendigo does an impressive job of visually conveying the various senses of dread (existential and other) the story possesses. Not only is there a great deal of rich cinematography and mise-en-scène and some terribly intense editing and imagery, but the movie's several monster manifestations are quite cool.
And while Wendigo's various aims at metaphorical layering and intentional ambiguity may leave some viewers less than satisfied, everyone can likely relate to some point in their childhood when they were incredibly frightened of and in the world, which is something this film portrays in an extremely effective manner.
