The Ice Harvest, starring John Cusack, is so abysmally awful, I am angry with myself for having seen it. The best thing I can say for the movie is that, at 88 minutes, it is mercifully short. What was this cast of talented actors thinking, and how did director and former Ghostbuster, Harold Ramis talk all of them into it? The Ice Harvest receives 1 out of 5 stars, with the 1 being given specifically to Oliver Platt for his wonderful turn as an all-night Christmas drunk.

    In this bleak celebration of nihilistic soullessness, Cusack portrays Charlie Arglist, a lawyer in Wichita, Kansas who works exclusively for Bill Guerrard (Randy Quiad), the mob boss from Kansas City who runs criminal activity in Wichita. To say that Cusack portrays Charlie is a bit kind when what he is really doing is channeling Lloyd Dobbler (from Say Anything) and Rob Gordan (from High Fidelity) without those characters’ hope, charisma, or sense of right or wrong. But I digress.

    Charlie and his partner in crime, Vic (Billy Bob Thornton) have become so fed up with their lives that they decide to steal over $2 million from Guerrard on Christmas Eve and skip town. Meanwhile, Charlie takes care of his drunken friend Pete Van Heuten (Oliver Platt) who is married to Charlie’s ex-wife, raising Charlie’s kids and in as much constant misery married to Sara Beth as Charlie was. Pete is out carousing when he should be at Christmas dinner at his in-laws. His life is cold and empty, which makes him the perfect friend for Charlie who is infatuated with a stripper at one of Guerrard’s strip joints where Charlie is the manager. Charlie has to get a photo back from Vic for the stripper, Renata (Connie Nielsen). The picture depicts Renata and a local councilman in a compromising position. We assume she wants to blackmail him with the photo so that Vic can’t. Charlie thinks retrieving the picture will put himself in her good graces and she will leave with him and Vic and the money.

    If you’re confused, don’t be. Since the film provides no way to invest oneself in any of these characters, the plot might as well be irrelevant. In fact, my wife kept saying out loud throughout the entire movie, "Where is this going?" with an emphasis toward exasperation. So, when lacking a coherent or at least interesting plot, perhaps the film is about character development. But, then again, every character is interchangeable with any other in this film. They are all despicable who will do whatever he or she has to in order to get his or her hands on the $2 million. We are meant to be hoping that Charlie, who does not start as ruthless as the others, will stick to his guns, but he does not.

    So if the film isn’t about a clever plot or about interesting characters, perhaps it is about an interesting idea. The film at least provides this in the form of a story that Charlie tells about why he has no regrets in life. He tells of his father and uncle who lived diametrically opposite lives yet died within a day of one another at the age of 54. To Charlie, this indicates that no matter what your actions you end up with the same result, death. So, when put on the spot in order to get the money, we see time and again characters showing total disregard for any consequence of their actions to themselves, other people, or to the idea of decency in general. Yet the film on more than a few occasions has the nerve to suggest that Christianity is killing the town of Wichita.

    I am not suggesting that every movie entail uplifting subject matter. Certainly the notion that nothing really matters has been tackled in other, better movies (Garden State, Singles, Dark City). But to suggest in such a rotten way Charlie’s getting away with the money without getting killed somehow proves a point about the nihilistic nature of the universe, well, that is more than I can bear, especially when what passes for a profundity in this film is "In this country, there are only two things left for a man: money and pussy."

    That line is uttered by the drunken Pete, the only high point in such a dreadful film. Oliver Platt’s drunken performance reminds me of what all us regular people do when we have one of those "what does it all mean" days: namely we get drunk, spout off a bit to anyone who will listen, and get up the next day and go to work. That’s what Pete’s going to do; and as soon as I get plowed enough to forget The Ice Harvest, I will fight my hangover at work in the morning and do exactly the same thing. Give this movie a wide berth, everybody. See you next month.

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