A group of entirely likable characters go to an uncharted rolling mountain area paved with snow for extreme fun. Upon acquainting with the Ron Weasley-lookalike and the fashionable males and females with their perfectly feathered hair, the extreme(!) sports play soon takes off winding down with the compound fracture suffered by the ginger known only as Morten Tobias. Leaving his wand at home in his well-kept dorm room, they have no choice but to take refuge in an abandoned hotel that unknowingly has earned the title of "Hotel of Evil" some many odd years ago. After a while the predominant tension finally gives way and explodes and sputters until most everyone dies by way of the "snowman."
Cold Prey surprised me on many levels that I will begin to explain switching from sardonic interfaces which can be interchanged with a more serious tone. That's the best way to approach over hyped horror films; it keeps a fresh grab bag of thoughts and quibbles safe from the wary eyes of cynicism and unappreciative ideas. For what Cold Prey succeeds in deserves a keen eye for imagery, settings, and character development; Cold Prey has all these plus more but never fully takes off towards greatness due to a forgettable plot shift and expendable characters that should have stood a chance but were killed off in unimpressive ways to trim fat from the real prize - survival. The pickax mayhem was glamorized with real terror in My Bloody Valentine and later emblazoned with more of the "red stuff" in the 3D remake of My Bloody Valentine. The usage in Cold Prey doesn't really differ or stand out with any inventive murders but the hulking figure of the Snowman sets the playground for some surprising scares and jump out moments. Cold Prey might not be revolutionary but it is damn good fun and nonchalantly stylish to boot.
For the annual role of spirited feminist survivor, Ingrid Bolsø Berdal performs flawlessly as Jannicke. She's boyish, peppy, and desirable. Plus she looks grand covered in snow and blood. Two color extremes and opposite elements fit the role of a horror movie with a flare of passion. Switching from camera-friendly aspects, I turn my attention to love depicted in film. I have an ideal mindset for youthful love and sacrifice. That one key scene in the Stan Winston funded remake of How to Make a Monster? struck a right chord with the daring portrayal of a doomed male emasculating his ego to tell a woman that he never had a chance, only to be slain several scenes later. A similar tale of "love" is woven in Cold Prey, breaking down barriers of standards and stifling the blood flow to create "user-generated" emotions using this defined contemporary version of "cold horror" as a vessel. Who cares if the starlets brains are butterscotch?
In the long run, Cold Prey tramples much of what I've seen from the horror community over the years. It's no messiah but a disciple of taking old-school terror and mixing it with the new school expertise of cinematography. Unlike most "trapped" films, the environment really allows for a fit of helplessness with no aid of magically locked doors. For a solid villain plagued with writers block and a precise unraveling of events, Cold Prey will do you no shame in its irregular piecing together of a surefire hit. It might not live up to your morbidly high expectations but I dare you to hate this film. Double dog dare you. And what's more strange to come is a sequel that if looked at in the proper light, succeeds over the predecessor.