It is winter, 1989, in northern Minnesota. Josey Aimes (Charlize Theron, “Monster”) has left her abusive husband with her two children and escaped back home to Mom (Sissy Spacek, “In the Bedroom”) and Dad (Richard Jenkins, “Shall We Dance”). Neither thinks their daughter has made the right choice, the womanly thing to do being to suck it up and find a way to make the marriage work. But she’s their child, and family does not turn out family into the cold even when they disagree.

Josey just wants to make something for her and the kids they can call their own, doing it without having to rely upon the effort of someone else. Encouraged by an old friend, Glory (Frances McDormand, “Almost Famous”), the pretty young woman takes a job at the same local mine her father has worked at his entire life. It’s back-breaking, dangerous work, but the pay is excellent and, for the first time ever, Josey can honestly say she’s earning a living by use of her own sweat and tears.

Unfortunately, that paycheck comes with more tears than sweat. Many of the men at the mine, including her father (whom stops speaking to her), believe this business is no place for a woman, and they do whatever they can think of to make Josey’s and the rest of female workers’ lives miserable. Feces cover the walls, dildos pop up in lunch boxes, breasts are felt up and abuse – maybe even rape – is a constant possibility whenever the women roam the darker corners of the facility.

Fed up, Josey takes up here grievances with Glory, her friend and the female union representative; she says grin, bear it or watch the abuse get worse. She tries to get her fellow coworkers, including a scared 19-year-old (Michelle Monaghan, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”), to join her in taking up their issues with management; they all refuse in fear and tell her to quit making waves. The single mother goes to the (apparently) friendly president of the company after management does nothing; she’s politely informed all the abuse and fondling is her fault and maybe she should resign. Finally, Josey goes to Bill White (Woody Harrelson, “The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio”), a hometown hockey hero and New York attorney returned to town after a failed marriage. Together, they take on the mill and file the nation’s first-ever class action lawsuit and, if they win, nothing in Corporate America will ever be the same again.

Inspired by a true story (and semi-based upon the book Class Action: The Landmark Case That Changed Sexual Harassment Law by Clara Bingham and Laura Leedy Gansler), Niki Caro’s (“Whale Rider”) new movie “North Country” is a powerfully acted and exquisitely realized melodrama bristling with passion. It also, unfortunately, feels a bit stale, like it’s coming a decade too late. Worse, just as it should be building to a powerful coda, Michael Seitzman’s (“Here on Earth”) screenplay resorts to corny cliché, finishing with a courtroom sequence so ludicrous and unbelievable that thud a person hears as it happens is their jaw hitting the floor in disbelief.

Still, I can’t get too worked up about all of this. When Caro gets things going, “North Country” fires upon all cylinders sensationally. Theron’s performance in this just might be better than her Oscar-winning serial killer role in “Monster.” Her Josey is a piece of work. Flawed, but with her heart in the right place; headstrong even when she should take a breath and back down, Josey is running so fast from her demons she almost misses out on the real life happening right next to her. Theron digs into the character, unafraid to make her blemishes every bit as apparent as her virtues. It’s as good a performance as a person has given all year, ample proof the stunningly beautiful South African’s Academy Award wasn’t a fluke.

She’s not alone in the great performance department. McDormand more than just breaks back out that “Fargo” accent, Glory every bit as complex and interesting as Josey. Sean Bean (“The Lord of the Rings”) continues to impress as her sympathetic-yet-firm husband, Jeremy Renner (“S.W.A.T”) is properly menacing as Josey’s supervisor with secrets which help him give his former high school friend an even harder time, while Harrelson delivers his second, even more impressive performance, in as many pictures. It is Jenkins, however, who really matters, matching wits and wills with Theron so strongly even the hardest heart can’t help but be moved when dad finally realizes he must put differences aside and stand with his daughter as one.

Caro also continues to impress behind the camera. I am hard-pressed to believe I will see a better made movie this year. At just over two hours, “North Country” never feels long or meandering, the director shifting from the courtroom to the mine to the home front and back again with ease. Re-teaming with “Whale Rider” editor David Coulson, their work together is never forced or out of synch, each scene moving to the next as if it was an expertly written novel shifting delicately to the next paragraph.

Even better, though, is veteran Chris Menges’ (“The Mission”) photography and semi-newcomer Gustavo Santaolla’s (“The Motorcycle Diaries”) ethereal score. There is much to love about both men’s work, everything about what the two of them accomplish worthy of an Oscar nomination. The reason is that what they do, what they accomplish, is elegant, subtly integral to every fiber of the film’s being and much of the majesty and power emanating from the melodrama intertwined intimately with everything they do.

If only the general thrust of all this didn’t feel so tired, and if only Seitzman’s script could avoid falling over a cliché-riddled cliff during the climax. Not only is “North Country” the type of female empowerment piece that requires a man (or, in this case, men) to step up and make the main female character’s point for her, the whole thing ends with a courtroom scene smelling more like “Matlock” than “Law and Order.” There is a lot I can handle if a movie is working. I can take a scene of a man taking over for a woman in front of an angry crowd and making them applaud in respect as tears stream down his face (not hers). I can accept a son coming to the realization his mother isn’t evil just through the simple gift of a sixty-year-old watch. I can even handle a mother walking out on her husband for no other reason than it moves the plot forward just enough to make the man wake up and smell the coffee.

What I can’t handle, at least outside of a Frank Capra picture (who could probably have pulled something like this off in his sleep) is a moment so blatantly engineered to produce tears (and so wildly unbelievable) that it takes the viewer completely out of the moment. Suddenly, I wasn’t watching – feeling – “North Country,” I was rolling my eyes at it, and the fluttering sound I heard fill the theater were the hundreds of eyelids doing it with me. Like students yelling “captain, my captain” to a departing Robin Williams, this whole scene is corny with a capital C and it nearly made me scream in disappointment and disgust.

That “North Country” isn’t ruined because of this is a testament to the skills of the actors, the truly effecting central story arc and the assured hand of director Caro (who somehow almost manages to make it work). Normally, this kind of thing will drive me completely nuts, here the moment only registers as a mild annoyance. But it does keep the movie from greatness. Far from it, actually. While many of the pieces are extraordinary, the finished product is a bit of a letdown. It pains me to say it, but “North Country” is unfortunately a melodrama with too much of its heart beating in the wrong corners of that four-chamber mine.

Film Rating: êê1/2  (out of 4)