Every once in awhile a movie comes along that's so preposterously, wonderfully, gloriously ridiculous that the mind can't help but wander to an elevator, somewhere deep in the bowels of a West Hollywood office park, where against all odds, someone, at some point, had to have said "yes."
BUSHY-TAILED YOUNG SCREENWRITER: Er, uh, yes, so picture this: A small-town snowplow driver's son is dead after getting mixed up with a, um, local drug cartel? Out for justice, the ordinarily mild-mannered Nels, uh, Coxman then goes on a cold-blooded—get it?—killing spree using his state-issued plow, a Christmas tree, and a entire arsenal of blunt, rural implements.
MOVIE EXEC: Triple the puns and name the drug kingpin Viking and you have yourself a deal, kid.
We can only assume this was the pitch for Cold Pursuit, the 10,000th revenge thriller in Liam Neeson's increasingly bloody canon and an early frontrunner for the must-see B-movie of 2019. If you still can't believe this is a real thing, I urge you with every fiber of my being to watch the trailer (set to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" because of course) below:
Take Rosebud and shove it, Mr. Welles. We don't need no stinking (SPOILER ALERT) sled when we've got four tons of gangster-splatting snowplow.
Suffice to say, if you think John Wick wearing Carhartt in Fargo with the guy from Taken sounds like a good Saturday night, let's hang out. Cold Pursuit—as opposed to the hot kind—salts the popcorn and plows into theaters this February.
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