Snow Hollow is a small, quiet town somewhere in Utah known only for functioning as a popular ski destination for amateurs and professionals alike. There isn’t much to see there otherwise – the people are friendly, the food is hearty and the atmosphere is one of warmth and welcome. This is until there is a sudden tragedy that afflicts a young couple, where a woman is slain by an unseen assailant, her body mauled beyond the point of recognition. Officers John Marshall (Jim Cummings) and Julia Robson (Riki Lindhome) are immediately put on the case, with the general sentiment around town being that this was the result of a wolf attack. Marshall is a cynic by nature – a recovering alcoholic, he has tried to become the voice of reason in a community driven by folklore and exaggeration, including coming from his own father, the local sheriff (Robert Forster), who refuses to slow down, despite his health rapidly deteriorating, much to the fear of his son, who also has his own challenges raising his daughter (Chloe East), who is growing up at an alarming rate, which terrifies John. A series of similar massacres happen soon after, which launches the town into a national scandal, with John citing this as the work of a serial killer. However, the rest of the residents are less inclined to believe this, and instead start to gravitate towards attributing these vicious attacks to a paranormal being, a rapid werewolf that lurks just out of sight, and is gradually eliminating every woman he comes across. John is already heavily invested in solving this mystery (and disproving these absurd claims that there is a supernatural beast gallivanting through their own), but when his own daughter is targetted and narrowly escapes, he has even more reason to take a personal interest in this case – but with the death toll rising, and the discourse around this being’s identity only becoming more widespread, it’s a lot more difficult to get ahead of such a vicious creature, especially if the myths are true.

When he made his ambitious debut in 2018 by adapting his own short film into Thunder Road, one of the most fascinating introductions of recent years, Jim Cummings confirmed himself to be a talented young filmmaker that we would do well to keep an eye on. A multi-talented artist who seemed to be destined to have a fruitful career, he seems to have kept to that promise almost immediately, writing, directing and starring in The Wolf of Snow Hollow, a fascinating piece of filmmaking that sees Cummings once again making use of his independent spirit in his sophomore feature film, and creating something that has both similarities and radical differences to what he did with Thunder Road. An enduring work that combines horror and comedy in a very wry and sardonic way, and still manages to extract some significant meaning from a story that doesn’t quite lend itself to much emotion in most cases, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is one of the year’s more endearing pieces of filmmaking, particularly in terms of how the director manages to find the nuance in a premise and genre that normally tends to be reserved for gaudy excess and a lack of restraint. By no means a perfect film (much like his previous film, Cummings’ work here still shows some minor teething problems, which is more a quality of a younger director finding his voice, rather than a lack of talent), but just strong enough to overcome its minor flaws and instead become a delightful surprise of a film, the kind that will excite those who were energized by the filmmaker’s previous work, and serve as an introduction to someone who is well on his way to making an immense impact on the industry, one step at a time.

Comedy and horror have been shown to be quite compatible bedfellows throughout history, particularly when it comes to more paranormal-based horror, where the inherent humour that comes with supernatural creatures being the folly of many of the most outrageously funny works of terror. Werewolves in particular lend themselves to a more humorous tone, since the concept of someone losing their capacity to function normally, and periodically transforming into a rabid beast, isn’t something that has been taken seriously by cinema very often, and for good reason. Cummings understands this, and forms a film that may not be as absurd as something like An American Werewolf in London or Wolf, which derive a lot of comedic value from these situations, but rather takes a more delicate approach to questioning these kinds of stories. This isn’t exactly a film about a werewolf, functioning more as one that questions the entire belief system surrounding them. In this regard, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is a cleverly subversive exploration of the mythos of these creatures, which Cummings portrays with precision and heartful humour, almost to the point where we forget the more carefully callous edge that persists throughout the film. The director’s ability to prevent this from falling victim to the same hackneyed tropes, and gradually develop them into a poignant story of individuality and familial relationship, all the while casting a very wide net over a set of common concepts, which the director masterfully explores, immediately establishes The Wolf of Snow Hollow as one of the year’s more effective experiments in both theory and execution.

As we saw with Thunder Road, Cummings has a tendency to take us by surprise – in his previous film, he used the structure of an outrageous comedy about an incompetent police officer to tell a heartbreaking story about trauma, which expertly navigates some complex emotions without ever coming across as inauthentic or overhanded, a result of the film meeting the requirements of the genre, and therefore being able to have some degree of reliability in the proceedings. The Wolf of Snow Hollow tackles some similar thematic territory, albeit from a different perspective – while the previous film was about a man grieving the loss of his mother, this one mainly takes the form of a tumultuous relationship between a son and his father, as well as between the son and his own child, a teenage daughter gradually coming into her own early adulthood, much to his chagrin. Cummings, once again playing a police officer (and doing exceptionally well, although one would hope he’s planning to try a different kind of character in his next project), has impeccable chemistry with Chloe East and the incredible Robert Forster, whose own death casts a melancholy shadow over this film, contributing to the deep set of emotions that it is consistently plumbing. Father-child stories aren’t uncommon, and The Wolf of Snow Hollow essentially forms another entry into a recent wave of horror films that use terror as a means to comment on real-world situations and convey a particular message. It’s an approach that may not always work well, especially since it often goes against the main thrust of the genre as a whole (which is normally to be a form of escape from reality), but when done well, and employing the necessary amount of heart, it can work out splendidly, as is the case here.

Where this film does deviate is in how the director finds the humanity in a story built almost entirely on the search for a creature that is anything but human – and through this disconnect between the tender emotions of the relationship that sets the framework for the film, and the main storyline that keeps it engaging. The perpetual oscillation between the two makes for truly compelling viewing, and immediately makes The Wolf of Snow Hollow a distinct, singular work that has a vivid approach to a conventional premise, which Cummings explores with a kind of sincerity that isn’t seen very often. This is sadly the kind of film that doesn’t announce itself as a major work – it is a small, independent horror comedy that was produced from the ground up, made by a fiercely independent filmmaker, and thus will have its audience mainly within those attuned to this brand of film. However, it deserves a much wider viewership, especially since its distinct approach and willingness to blur the lines between family comedy and terrifying horror are better than many mainstream attempts to do the exact same. Word of mouth is imperative to a film like The Wolf of Snow Hollow, but through the success of Thunder Road, and the gradual formation of Cummings as an essential new voice, it isn’t too long before the wider population realizes his genius – and when they do, they’ll have a fantastic set of films to look back on, including this one, which has all the makings of a future cult classic at the very least.