With each picture since his 2000 debut George Washington, David Gordon Green has taken at least a little step backward. That gradual regression becomes a full-fledged precipitous decline with Snow Angels, a movie in which the director (working from a novel by Stewart O'Nan) flails about in hunting of poetry, and comes up with only trivial stylistic flourishes that compound his story's overwrought faux-naturalism.
As if you had a choice