I haven't had the greatest luck on the slopes. The last time I went skiing, I hit a snow-covered log—
thinking it was a mogul—and cartoonishly flew right out of my bindings, soaring some fifteen feet
through the air, and landing face first, giving myself the icy equivalent of road rash. The time before
that—I'll spare you the long, long story—a woman on a lift chucked a ski pole at me as I
was clumsily slaloming beneath her, missing me by inches. And I won't even get into the solitary
time that I tried snowboarding, but let's just say that it ended with me trudging in defeat down to
the rental office and exchanging the board for a pair of skis. I say all that to say this: watching
Children of Winter last night seriously amped me up to hit to slopes, and I'm this
close to digging my goofy-ass, neon snowsuit out of the Rubbermaid bin in the basement, buying a
lift ticket, and testing my luck once again. I'm sure for more competent skiers and boarders, the
film will have the same effect.
Off into the wild blue yonder...
Since 1950's Deep and Light, Warren Miller Entertainment has produced one ski
documentary per year, each a joyous tribute to the lifestyle of the slopes and a testament to the
athleticism of the featured skiers and—within the last decade or so—snowboarders. Essentially,
Miller single-handedly invented the concept of the ski film, and while he's no longer involved
directly in Warren Miller Entertainment's ongoing productions—he sold off his branding in the late
1980s—his spirit of enthusiasm for winter sports lives on. Children of Winter: Never Grow
Old is the company's 59th feature, and it follows a template similar to that of previous films.
In one vignette after another, we traverse the globe to explore various facets of ski culture,
seeing some jaw-dropping jumps and cringe-inducing wipeouts along the way, all set to an
appropriately energetic modern rock soundtrack from the likes of The Foo Fighters, Weezer, Beck,
Coldplay, and The Mars Volta.
After a brilliantly tone-setting montage, scored with Radiohead's "Bodysnatchers," the film opens
in Alaska, where a group of skiers—led by 2006 Winter Olympics bordercross gold medal winner
Seth Wescott—takes a helicopter to the peak of a never-before-traversed mountain. As the aerial
camera pulls back and we see the three tiny figures about to fling themselves down a steeper-
than-steep precipice, the point is clear: these people will do anything for a thrill. But this is only
one part of the experience. The overriding emotion in Children of Winter is the sheer joy
of being outdoors, of cross-cutting through "a 15-to-20-inch, 3 percent density dump," as one
skier tells us, and of being part of a wide, welcoming community.
On Colorado's Crested Butte, we see the influence that baby-toting, fire-haired female skier
Wendy Fischer has had on Rachael Burks, Gretta Eliassen, and Lynsey Dyer—three promising
young skiers who look at Fischer with stars in their eyes. Nearby, on the flat streets of Leadville,
citizens have organized an annual skijoring competition, in which brave-hearted skiers are towed
behind a galloping horse to hit jumps and collect suspended rings. In Bend, Oregon, famed 1970s
surfer Gerry Lopez trades Hawaiian pipelines for endless waves of snow on Mount Bachelor, while
15-year-old Ben Watts designs and builds enormous stunt jumps on the lower part of the slopes.
Overseas, we're taken into the Austrian Alps, to Japan with mogul-hopper Jonny Mosely—who
also narrates, his overawed tone not quite as entertaining as Warren Miller's curmudgeonly dry
wit—and finally to Iceland, where three friends literally sail around the island, stopping to hike up
whatever peak catches their eyes and then skiing back down to their rubber dinghy, tethered at
the shore. To mix it up, a mountain biking segment shows us how many skiers spend the off-
season, and we're also treated to a concert by Yukon Cornelius, a supergroup of sorts comprised
of snow-addicted members of N.E.R.D., The Barenaked Ladies, Guster, and The Dave Matthews
Band.
The excitement briefly turns to reverence during a tribute to fallen downhill icon Billy Poole, who
died after he jumped off a cliff—a routine feat for the fearless skier—and smashed into a boulder.
What the tribute doesn't mention, however, is that Poole's accident occurred while he was
shooting a segment for Children of Winter, giving the film's Never Grow Old
subtitle a chilling and uneasy resonance. Still, his fellow skiers celebrate his legacy, and we're
granted some beautiful footage of Poole at his best, carving down mountainsides with impossible
grace. "You could die here today," warns a sign at a ski resort in Silverton, Colorado, and while
the message is unsettling, it's also a reminder that, for most hardcore skiers and snowboarders,
the joy of speeding down a powder-covered mountain far outweighs the inherent dangers. And
that joy is what Children of Winter is all about.
From the looks of it, Children of Winter was shot partially on both film and high definition
video, and the documentary's 1080i/AVC-encoded transfer handles both sources with bunny-
slope ease. There are a few soft shots scattered throughout, but the image is generally tight and
crisp. Crystals of snow sparkle in the sun, wind-chapped faces show appropriately weathered skin
texture, and the wide mountain vistas are true windows into a winter wonderland. While vast
expanses of snow can be tricky for cinematographers—it's easy for white highlights to either get
overblown or look much too dim—the picture's contrast is strong and stable, with deep blacks and
a decent sense of pop and presence. Colors are strictly realistic—aside from some gritty black and
white segments, there's no stylization here—and you can expect lots of bright primaries in the
skiers' snowsuits. Noise levels peak expectedly during the darker scenes, but most of the time the
image has a clean, uncluttered look, largely free of compression artifacts and other transfer-
related troubles. Overall, Children of Winter isn't the most dazzling high definition sports
documentary I've seen, but I have no real complaints.
Do note that since it was nearly impossible to capture in-motion screenshots in 1080i, all stills
were captured in 720p and do not represent the full visual quality of this disc.
On the audio end, Children of Winter sports a Dolby TrueHD 5.1 surround track that doesn't
really offer any downhill sonic thrills, but proves to be quite adept when it comes to blasting the
film's rock-heavy soundtrack. The music is the highlight here, from the scuffed-up, overdriven
rumble of Radiohead's "Bodysnatchers," to the epic avalanche of Icelandic band Sigur Ros' signature
cello bow-on-guitar strings sound. All of it is dynamic and buoyant, with well-rounded bass, a solid
middle presence, and crystalline highs. Music is bled constantly into the rear speakers to fill out the
soundspace, but otherwise, the surround channels don't get much action when it comes to pans
and other movements, a slight disappointment considering how much snow-shredding is happening
on screen. Still, many of the sound effects—whether they were captured on location or foleyed in
later, I can't quite tell—are realistic and detailed, especially the various crunches, sprays, and skids
of skis cutting through powder or sliding across rough icy patches. The dialogue throughout is easy
to understand, and the music usually drops in volume anytime Jonny Moseley starts to speak.
The disc includes naught but a theatrical trailer for Children of Winter (1080i, 4:16), plus
seventeen minutes of standard definition trailers for previous Warren Miller films.
Now that the Winter Olympics are over and spring is quickly approaching, snow-starved skiers and
snowboarders will have to find another way to slake their thirst for downhill adventure during the
long summer months. Enter Children of Winter, a well-edited and wonderfully scored
documentary that really does capture the elation of plowing through 20" powder with the wind
against your face. This one will have you pining for the slopes. Recommended.
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