Downhill – 2020 – R
Pete (Will Ferrell) and Billie (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) with their two pre-teen sons, Finn (Julian Grey) and Emerson (Ammon Ford) are settling into a family ski vacation in the Austrian Alps. From the get-go Pete and Julia’s relationship appears strained but then explodes into a no doubter when, as an avalanche roars down the slopes, Pete saves his phone and abandons his family. The avalanche turns tame, harmlessly dusting Billie and the boys with a coat of snow but burying fleeing Pete under a stigma of weakness, negligence and cowardice. The harder poor Pete tries to dig out, the deeper he sinks, Billie icing him and the boys preferring screen time to father-son time. Pete’s best shot at making amends is a surprise, heli-skiing family outing, earning an enthusiastic thumbs-up by the boys, but a Billie brawl over a missing $2 mitten forces pathetic Pete to forfeit the $2,000 adventure. Pitiful. Ugh. Remind me, why is this film billed a comedy?
Frankly, the film falls somewhere between downer and snoozer. I was an okay downhill skier in days of yore so, instead of tracking the Staunton family feud, I found myself marveling at the different styles of skis, now and (way back) then. Wow, how equipment changes over 30 years! Instead of rooting for more than a kiss between Billie and Guglielmo, her ski instructor gigolo, I reverted to sweet memories of taking my two young sons skiing in the Sierra Nevada. My meandering thoughts eventually morphed into full blown daydreaming. To be fair, at regular intervals I’d snap back from California to Austria, give the film another chance, only to mentally bail, despairing at Downhill’s glacial pace, akin to snowploughing down a Black Diamond run. If I weren’t fighting a nap, I’d grow weary of Billie’s contorted facial expressions or shrieking diatribe. Ugh. She was cold, rude and genuinely unpleasant. I expected much more from Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Epic wipe out. Will Ferrell, not one of my favorite actors anyway, lived down to my expectations. If there were an award category for best performance as a cardboard cutout, he’d win uncontested. Dull, dull, dull. Ugh. Again.
I’d advise director Nat Fazin (Charlie’s Angels) to grab a rope tow to the bunny slope and stay there. Myself, I’ll drift back to my four decade old youthful escapades at Heavenly Valley or Badger Pass or China Peak, finding more entertainment in the ghosts of ski slopes past than Downhill could offer in it’s mercifully short 85 minutes. My final word. Ugh.
