‘The Girl In The Snow’ review: Louise Hemon turns to drama with a story from her own family’s past

Dir: Louise Hemon. France.  2025. 96mins

There is nothing more dangerous than an educated, independent woman in Louise Hemon’s atmospheric winter’s tale. Inspired by elements of her own family history, The Girl In The Snow follows a young woman’s arrival in a remote, close-knit Alpine hamlet at the end of the 19th century. The simmering tensions between the community’s traditional ways and her newfangled notions lie at the heart of a slow-burning, beautifully-crafted period drama that international arthouse audiences might find as intriguing as Maura Delpero’s Vermiglio (2024) or Hilynur Palmason’s Godland (2022). 

Hemon and cinematographer Marine Atlan make the most of their remote location in the Hautes Alpes

Best known for her documentaries L’Homme Le Plus Fort (2014) and Une Vie De Chateau (2019), Hemon makes an auspicious debut feature with a story partly inspired by the generations of teachers in her family and accounts by her great great aunt Aimee Bigallet and her grandfather Jacques Chevalier. The project won her the Gan Foundation’s creation grant in 2023, and now makes its debut in Directors’ Fortnight.

The Girl In The Snow is set during the winter months of 1899 leading towards the dawn of a new century. As the winds howl, the gloom of night is pierced by two flickers of lamplight and Aimee (Galatea Bellugi) arrives at her temporary home in the Alps. She seems as intrepid as Ada in Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993) and might have strayed from the pages of a Zola novel. Aimee settles in to her basic accommodation, reading Descartes by candlelight. Already an outsider, she is immediately established as an educated Republican woman with ideas of her own. A note from her parents states: ’Darling, there can be no revolution without a little sugar’.

Sound remains a key element in the film, from the crisp crunch of footsteps in fresh snow to the intimidating silence of glowering villagers not sure what to make of Aimee. Many of the womenfolk are working as domestics in the valley, making Aimee even more of a curiosity. What could she possibly teach them? Bellugi’s fierce Aimee is a resilient mixture of missionary, Mary Poppins and foreign conqueror. A decision to give her two pupils a good hot bath is the first bone of contention, an older women arguing that it is dangerous because “the crust on their heads protects their brains”. When Aimee writes down their oft-told camp fire tale of death’s inevitability, she is accused of stealing their folklore.

Conflicts and irritations grow, creating a sinister tone that promises folk horror or fairytale, a notion underlined by character names like Old Jupiter and a cast of non-professional actors that include charming performances from Lena Camillieri Dorleans and Solal Griveau Martin as Aimee’s mischievous pupils Beloti and Nans.

Hemon and cinematographer Marine Atlan (Daniel, The Rapture) make the most of their remote location in the Hautes Alpes, capturing the sugar icing white of snow-capped mountains, and the thick darkness of endless night. At times, glowing candles and warming fires provide the only glimmers of light. Distant figures amidst the winter landscapes and bare trees belong in a Brueghel painting.

Emile Sornin’s stabbing, unsettling score combining voices, violin and percussion only adds to the sense of unease. We never know quite where this may be heading, especially when Aimee’s rosy-cheeked sensuality becomes a magnet for the menfolk of the hamlet. Is she a siren? A ghost? Or perhaps the advance guard of a liberated future? The community’s attitude to Aimee seesaws between wariness and welcome even as her presence becomes ever more disruptive. Hemon has created a film of both style and substance, maintaining a suspenseful narrative whilst exploring intriguing ideas around culture, class, education and female empowerment.