First Winter

In the quiet isolation of a remote farmhouse, a tight‑knit circle of modern Brooklynites seeks refuge from the relentless pulse of city life. Drawn together by a shared love of yoga, organic cooking, and the heady freedom of un‑filtered creativity, they settle into a rhythm of sensual indulgence—sex, drugs, and meditative practice that feels like an extended exhale from the urban grind. The house, nestled amid snow‑blanketed fields, becomes a sanctuary where each sunrise promises a day unburdened by deadlines, and the long nights are lit by candle‑glow and conversation.

When an unprecedented winter descends, the retreat is plunged into a stark blackout that robs the sanctuary of heat, electricity, and the constant hum of modern comforts. The sudden removal of these lifelines presses the group into a raw confrontation with the elements, turning the farmhouse’s warm interior into a fragile shell against the feral cold outside. As supplies dwindle and the relentless wind howls, the once‑gentle flow of daily rituals begins to fray, exposing the delicate balance between communal harmony and individual yearning.

Against this austere backdrop, the film’s tone oscillates between lyrical serenity and simmering unease, capturing both the beauty of the stark landscape and the inner turbulence it provokes. The characters, each carrying their own unspoken hopes and insecurities, are forced to navigate shifting dynamics—jealousy, desire, and the instinct to survive—that ripple beneath the surface of their shared experience. In this delicate dance between vulnerability and resilience, First Winter invites the audience to contemplate how far the human spirit can stretch when stripped of the familiar comforts that once defined it.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 06:51