In Winter Passing, Will Ferrell participates in a rite of passage for every successful comic: once you've established yourself as a box office superstar, you need to step back and prove you're just as effective in a quirky ensemble indie. Adam Rapp's directorial debut is the right kind of film for him to demonstrate that integrity, but Winter Passing isn't memorable because of Ferrell's contributions, which don't amount to substantially more than an anesthetized version of his usual shtick. Instead, Winter Passing sings on the strength of Zooey Deschanel, her performance of hyper-real subtlety, and the atmospheric soundtrack that heightens the mood she sets in motion.
Long a capable actress and most often seen in comedic roles herself -- even opposite Ferrell once in Elf -- Deschanel here shows she can do weary and depressive with equal aplomb. Deschanel perfectly embodies that combination of short-term enthusiasm and long-term apathy that has seized a portion of the modern youth population, and as she rides the bus from New York to Michigan, one senses she is both a jaded veteran of this world and a lost traveler experiencing it for the first time. Deschanel's eyes provide an expressive window into her jangled thoughts. Her fits and starts toward reconciliation with her father (a grizzled Ed Harris) aren't quite so sublime, but Rapp has worked hard to steer clear of cliché in an environment that's been visited often in recent years. Since Wes Anderson has become such an influential director, films in this genre have a tendency to leave their audiences "offbeaten to death." But Winter Passing is a far more pensive and intimate film, less interested in the eccentricities its performers could contribute if they wanted, and more interested in the complex emotions of people who have been left behind by life.