Baffling, enticing, and nonsensical, Northfork is as deliriously incomprehensible as the feverish dreams of an asylum inmate. In the 50s, a Montana town is scheduled to be flooded to create a hydroelectric power plant. As a few remaining townsfolk refuse to abandon their homes, a group of menacing men in trenchcoats (led by James Woods) arrive to convince them to depart. The surreal events that follow are confusing, pointless and utterly pretentious: if you have a chin, now's the time to start stroking it.
The third film from the Polish brothers - whose previous outings Twin Falls, Idaho and Jackpot make Northfork the closing part of a trilogy about life in America's heartland - is likely to divide audiences into those who love it and those who absolutely loathe it. The only thing everyone will be able to agree on is that it makes hardly any sense at all.
Among the remaining townsfolk refusing to leave Northfork are a man who's built a modern day equivalent of Noah's Ark; Nick Nolte's grizzled preacher; and a small orphan boy (Duel Farnes), whose feverish illness leaves him dreaming about angels fallen to Earth. Could it be that these visions are real? And what does it have to do with the fact that James Woods' goons hand out wings to the townspeople? "We are all angels," explains Nolte. "It is what we do with our wings that separates us." Okaaay?...Ponderous to the point of falling in on itself, Northfork wants to be a visionary mood piece about the dreamlife of angels, American capitalism, and the great questions of existence. Instead, this indie idiocy mistakes confused ramblings for poetry, and cryptic mumblings for depth. Forever poised on the threshold of the nonsensical, it's simply annoying: a constipated film that strains so hard for significance it's in danger of having an aneurysm.