Towers of Ice and Blood – Asides (XXI)

‘We’re talking fire
We’re talking flame
We're talking ice into ashes …
But death is a small price for heaven.’
(Prefab Sprout, ‘The Ice Maiden’) 

*

A crow cradled by a teenage girl struggles and flaps its wings and caws, the camera lingering on the scene for what seems like well over a minute and culminating in the corvid’s furious jab at the girl’s lips, drawing thick, red blood. You can’t help but think of Hitchcock torturing Tippi Hedren in The Birds, and the unnecessarily extended indoor attack – or necessary if you think that artistic glory justifies over the top avian assault.

Marion Cotillard as The Snow Queen

It’s little asides and allusions like this that make Lucile Hadzihalilovic’s The Ice Tower such a mesmerising and exquisite film. Loosely using Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytale ‘The Snow Queen’ as scaffolding, lets you switch off from making sense of the narrative. And in turn you’re able to dwell upon the other pieces of art that swirl blizzard-like into view. One that struck me most strongly, was just how gorgeously Hadzihalilovic lets her camera linger on a face. Drawn out shots of Marion Cotillard – playing the actress Christina who is in turn the lesbian femme fatale Snow Queen – brought to mind the work of Krzysztof Kieślowski, in particular the visage of Irène Jacob in The Double Life of Veronique. It’s not that the camera is there to seduce us, it’s up to the actress to seduce the camera. And then for the film to seduce us. It does exactly that. 

There’s also a strange dreamlike quality to this story, one that made me recall the novels of Kazuo Ishiguro. I couldn’t help returning to thoughts of the two weeks that I spent reading The Unconsoled: baffled, frustrated, unsatisfied … yet not able to stop thinking about that book for months afterwards. This film does not frustrate in the same way, but it has that Ishiguro quality of placing the plot and the events therein just slightly to the left of normality. Something is not quite right but who cares when it looks this good.

Clara Pacini 

And then there’s the soundtrack, thrilling me as I caught the strange, unsettling tones of my latest obsession Olivier Messiaen. The Frenchman is perfect for ice and shimmering crystals and something not quite rational. And, if you know anything about his work, birds.  

Finally, without giving too much away, this is also a film that is perfect for the festive season. It’s not really Christmas without snow and ice and a bit of blood.