“I don’t like normal people. I like useful people.” Linda is an autistic mother-of-one whose life should have changed when Alex arrives on her doorstep. The dour Englishman wants to make amends after Linda's hitch-hiking daughter was accidentally killed when his car was hit by a truck. Initially shocked by her pragmatic approach to death and severe instructions not to drip on the carpet, Alex accepts an invitation to stay. One night becomes a week because Linda needs someone to put out the rubbish after the funeral - “I don’t do garbage”.

So begins a wonderfully tight study of a man’s struggle to realign his life. Evan’s raw tone fits the icy landscape physically and emotionally. Snow Cake is a subdued film that burns with the latent force of its environment, as if Alex is soon to be consumed by his natural surroundings. It has the capacity to shock in the most unexpected, and realistic, ways. The fatal car crash is as brutal as Linda's honesty: "those glasses make you look shifty" she said, without provocation. As Alex works to assuage his guilt, and save Linda’s dog from a diet of bananas, he finds unforeseen compassion in the arms of her “prostitute” neighbour, and some kind of salvation through Linda herself.

What might sound unbearably Canadian is, with Evans' subtle approach, thoroughly satisfying. His film is calm and thoughtful, eschewing the attention-grabbing antics of Rain Man, an obvious comparison. Yet Weaver is no Dustin Hoffman. She convinces as the high-functioning woman but does so with a sense of performance, though it is largely Rickman’s fault. If he wasn’t so good, she would look better still. Fortunately, Snow Cake is his story. Life doesn’t change much for Linda but for Alex everything is turned around. Watching that happen is one of the film’s great pleasures. Evans has crafted a beautifully sympathetic film whose haunting qualities have that rare capacity to linger long after the credits roll.

// COLIN FRASER