Indie anxiety auteur Jim Cummings’ work is always trembling nervously with the hum or uneasy apprehension. His brilliant debut, “Thunder Road” throbbed with the cringe-y tension of a grieving divorcee policeman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and his follow-up, “The Wolf of Snow Hollow” layered murder mystery genre elements and the idea of the “toxic male beast within” on top of his signature jittery agitation.
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