Forming the swarthy spine of Winter’s Bone is the unspoken code of silence so entrenched in the Ozark Mountain foothills -- where the only pastime more important than squirrel hunting is meth labbing -- its mere mention often begets a fate worthy of the mob-run streets of Jersey.

Seventeen-year-old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) finds herself up against this outlaw code after her father puts up the family house against his jail bond and abruptly disappears. Ree must find her father soon or the entire family will be turned out into the barren Ozark woods.

Director Debra Granik’s rough-hewn adaptation of Daniel Woodrell’s novel of the same name takes on many personas as it runs its shadowy course. It begins as a lazy missing-person story that masterfully blends into its fold a documentary-like exposition of the enshrouded environment and its people… an environment not often seen on film, and a peculiar people used to setting their own rules and unaccustomed to outside intervention. The story’s final act morphs into a seething murder mystery with an ending as grisly as anything we’ve seen on film.

The movie won the Grand Jury Prize and screenwriting award at this year’s Sundance, but the tick at the film’s heart is young Jennifer Lawrence who takes over the film in the role of Ree. She pulls from her Kentucky roots to lay down a wrenching depiction of what it must be like to subsist in this harsh mountainous environment. Lawrence’s Ree comes across as an interesting twist on the typical male hero, reflecting the matriarchal nature of deep woods societies. It’s the women who keep things going in these hills, and it’s Ree who’s willing to fight to keep her family together

With her father gone and her mother in a catatonic state, Ree chops the wood, hunts for food and teaches her younger siblings to skin and cook a squirrel. She’s smart and she’s tough, but as her search begins to erode the mystery behind her father’s disappearance, the area erupts into a meth-fueled screen of violence separating Ree from the truth.

At times the film’s mood becomes so relentless and unyielding it threatens to steal The Road’s thunder of hopelessness and despair. But Ree’s bright spirit and relentless strength of character always cuts through the darkness.  

Granik’s sensitive treatment of the oft-stereotyped hill culture also goes a long way toward keeping the film afloat despite its sparse dialogue and lean plot. She avoids distorted characterizations of the culture by failing to fall into the usual trappings of what we think we know about hillbillies. Although the banjo does make an appearance in a clever little nod to Deliverance, Granik and her film crew managed to chip away at the hill country stereotypes while adding some new visions to what we’ve seen before.

As the credits roll, we’re left with an array of heavy emotions… some haunting, others comforting. We’ve all heard of the horrific effect Meth has on the end-user (surely some have experienced it first-hand), but in Winter’s Bone, we’re given an all-to-realistic insight into the other end of the scourge: those backwood crannies and cook-shack chemists who give birth to the dangerous poison. And it ain’t pretty, folks!

On the other end of the emotional spectrum is Ree, who navigates the puzzle of her young life and manages to soldier on despite the difficult circumstances thrown at her. There’s positive emotional value for the viewer in seeing Ree’s reserved sense of accomplishment at just doing the right thing.

I think Winter’s Bone is a movie to be experienced, not merely watched. But be forewarned. It’s powerful stuff.

(Released by Roadside Attractions and rated “R” for some drug material, language and violent content.)

Review also posted at www.franksreelreviews.com.