One of the things Warren Miller has always done well is tell a story. In his latest film,
he tells a number of them. In the first segment, we get to see fathers of extreme Glen Plake and Doug Coombs mixing it up in Verbier with the relative new schooly-ness of Seth Morrison and Shane Szocs. From there, viewers get some less-than-inspiring Alaskan snowboard footage and gratuitous Nissan shots before the action heads to Brighton and some sweet big-air from this underhyped Utah playground.
The most original and awe-inspiring footage in Cold Fusion comes not from skiers but from BASE-jumpers outfitted with webbed legs and arms that allow them to fly for an unfathomable length of time.
And from the if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it department comes the standard falling-off-the-chairlift routine. But while the gimmick may be old, I’d miss it if it weren’t there. It’s like hearing Warren Miller himself on the voice-overs — the sound has become as much a part of autumn as Monday Night Football. Which leads to another thing Cold Fusion, like most Miller films, does so well. It leaves you with the only real emotion that matters: an incredible urge to ski.