by Pauline Adamek
Worth: $10.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Marion Cotillard, Clara Pacini, August Diehl, Gaspar Noé
Intro:
… a haunting if slow-moving exploration of loneliness, idolization, and the dangerous allure of fantasy.
Hans Christian Andersen’s romantic era fairy tale “The Snow Queen” forms the touchstone for Lucile Hadžihalilović’s film The Ice Tower. But rather than take us on an allegorical quest, her story is a dreamlike coming-of-age tale centred on obsession, identity, and emotional isolation.
Set in the 1970s, the film follows Jeanne (newcomer Clara Pacini), a withdrawn teenager living in a remote mountain orphanage. One wintery night she runs away, wandering through forests and along icy roads until she eventually arrives at an alpine town. Seeking refuge, she breaks into what seems to be an abandoned warehouse hidden within the snowy landscape. She discovers that it’s actually a film studio where a small crew are shooting an adaptation of “The Snow Queen.”
Assuming another girl’s identity, Jeanne slips into the world of the production, blending in among the extras. The teen becomes transfixed by Cristina (Marion Cotillard), the glamorous and imperious actress playing the lead. Cotillard’s character becomes an enigmatic, almost mythic presence tied to the film-within-a-film structure.
Hadžihalilović transforms the traditional fairy-tale journey into something psychological and inward rather than adventure-driven. Much like Gerda in “The Snow Queen,” Jeanne leaves home and wanders into a strange realm ruled by a regal figure; hence the sound stage itself functions like an enchanted castle or labyrinth. Given that the word “glace” in the original French title (La Tour de glace) translates both as “ice” and “mirror,” Jeanne and Cristina’s off-screen relationship gradually mirrors the emotional dynamics unfolding within the fairy tale. Reflections, doubles, role-playing, and fractured identities are everywhere, creating the sense that Jeanne is disappearing into Cristina’s image in the way that characters disappear into myths. The film-within-a-film starts merging with reality until both seem to occupy the same haunted psychological space.
At times, Hadžihalilović effectively conjures up an eerie dread, assisted by the haunting score and Jonathan Ricquebourg’s shadowy, kaleidoscopic cinematography. But the film’s glacial pacing and chilly emotional distance impedes our engagement, and the weird and creepy climax feels unearned.
The Ice Tower offers a haunting if slow-moving exploration of loneliness, idolization, and the dangerous allure of fantasy.
