Recent Chinese Art-house movies became such an exhilarating sensation that is hard to not miss. We are the rear end of this production line and we get surprised movie by movie. Far from every movie i remember from this clan, “Black Coal, Thin Ice” is such a masterly crafted crime flick with naked brutality and rough atmosphere. It is cold-heart drama of an ex-cop who gets looped back to one of his cases and fells in love with his ice maiden person of interest, and goes mad after turning herself in. Isn`t this more than enough? Isn`t this just the amount of disbelief suspension we always craved? Aren`t we supposed to be happy about -still- having this kind of make-believe?