If you like Alan Rickman, you may find Snow Cake offers one of his finer performances to date -- and given the man's catalogue of dry-witted tearjerkers and pathos-laden comedies, that's saying a lot.

Too bad director Marc Evans could not find a nicer frame for Rickman's portrait of a broken man learning to mend through tragedy, because his Canadian-shot Snow Cake never quite gels.

The problem, primarily, is the high sap quotient.

It opens with the death of a young woman in a car accident, then goes on to explore the impact of her death on her autistic mother -- as well as the guilt-ridden driver who escaped injury.

Snow Cake is packed with downer material that could easily suck the air out of every scene, and suffocate an actor's ability to offer nuance.

If the script picks up the sledgehammer, and flattens the characters even further, even the most talented actor could end up looking like Wile E. Coyote after an encounter with a falling anvil.

Now, if you were going to cast Wile E. Coyote in human form -- who better than Rickman to take on the role of the perpetually cranky canine dreamer and schemer?

Rickman seems to channel the spirit of the squeaking accordion named Coyote as he plays Alex Hughes, a role written specifically for him by British screenwriter Angela Pell.

Alex is just passing through Wawa, Ont., on a personal mission when he's stopped in his tracks by a semi-trailer. This is more than metaphor. Pell pulls out the hammer and makes it happen in the opening act.

Alex survives the horror, but his passenger does not. A young woman named Vivienne (Emily Hampshire) is killed, leaving Alex to deal with even more baggage than he already arrived with -- and that was plenty.

Alex tries to cleanse himself by spending time with Vivienne's autistic mother -- played as a highly-functioning, child-like grump by Sigourney Weaver -- but his attempts at playing confessor fail to inspire any trust.

The only person who prompts Alex to linger in town, and remain emotionally accessible, is Maggie (Carrie-Anne Moss). The two form a solid, grown-up bond that allows them to share deep thoughts -- and, in turn, put into words all the complex emotions about love and loss that would make most poets whimper in fear.

Profound loss and the finding the will to heal are states of mind that transcend words as they tap into the primal human experience. A great actor can communicate the many moods and layers of survival guilt and suicidal urges without saying a thing.

Unfortunately, Rickman and his co-stars are left to do a lot of talking -- and swing a lot of sledgehammers -- in this poorly directed, poorly scripted and yet wonderfully acted film.

Snow Cake clearly has admirable intent and a sincere heart, but there's no flow. No matter how hard Evans pushes, he can't find the sweet spot in a single scene.

Rickman seems to sense Evans's inability and every once in a while, you can see the Coyote grimace flash over his face as he slinks away from yet another disastrous dramatic moment that doesn't click.

Weaver's talent is undeniable, but she never disappears into the role and somewhere along the way, thoughts of The Miracle Worker crossed my mind -- and not in the best way -- leaving this Wawa-shot drama lost in a world of its own.