When it comes to fairytales, they have become whitewashed over the centuries, stripping them of their darker elements. Yet over the past decade, there has been a resurgence of giving these fairytales back their darkness in films such as The Ugly Stepsister, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio, and Gretel & Hanzel. Another film that hopes to bring the darkness back to its story is the latest feature from Lucile Hadzihalilovic, The Ice Tower, a meta adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen. After sitting on the film for several days, I am still trying to wrap my head around this eerie spell this film has cast upon me (complimentary).
We follow Jeanne (Clara Pacini), a runaway orphan living in the cold and isolated mountains of France during the late 1960s. One day as she seeks refuge in what she believes is an abandoned warehouse, only to discover that it is a film studio that is filming an adaptation of her favorite book, The Snow Queen. With crew members feeling pity for her, they cast her as an extra in the film. Eventually, she meets the lead actress Cristina (Marion Cotillard) who plays the infamous Snow Queen. Who immediately enthralls Jeanne as she is dazzling in sparkling white. Cristina takes Jeanne under her wing, what starts off as mentoring soon turns into a nightmare.
What struck me most about The Ice Tower was how deeply it leaned into the aura of a fairytale, similar to the lush and imaginative productions from Powell and Pressburger. The entire film operates within this whimsical, almost otherworldly register. Its cinematography is cloaked in icy pastels and a dreamlike haze. Its costume and production design steeped in ornate crystal detail that feels suspended between myth and reality. While its score weaves together a sense of wonder and unease. It is beautiful to look at, but the beauty here comes with a darker side, as if at any moment the shimmering surface might crack to reveal something far darker. That duality is what makes the film so compelling: the film acknowledges that every beloved fairytale carries within it shadows, cruelty, and danger lurking just beneath the enchantment.
At the heart of this story lies Jeanne, who becomes utterly captivated by the production. Not solely because of her lifelong obsession with The Snow Queen, but also because of her own loneliness and fragile naiveté. In that vulnerability that she finds Cristina utterly enthralling. Marion Cotillard’s Cristina is an icy marvel, commanding every frame with her cold, calculated demeanor. She is cruel without needing to raise her voice, magnetic without ever softening her demeanor, and in that balance lies her character’s haunting allure. Her gaze is mysterious, unreadable, and faintly sinister. Which draws both Jeanne and the audience into her orbit. And so Jeanne becomes the perfect victim, her yearning heart and restless imagination pulling her deeper into Cristina’s spell until she tumbles into a feverish delirium, where she is no longer able to distinguish reality from illusion.
At just under two hours, The Ice Tower often feels much longer, stretching time in the way many ambitious arthouse works do; testing patience as much as it rewards it. But that is part of its spell. It lingers, it haunts, it drifts between beauty and unease. Thus leaving you caught somewhere between fascination and disorientation. The Ice Tower may not be for everyone, but for those willing to surrender to its rhythms, it offers an experience that is impossible to shake.
My Rating: B
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