Sébastien Betbeder’s comedy-drama L’Incroyable Femme Des Neige (The Incredible Snow Woman) looks like a lot of fun based on the trailer, but don’t judge the film score by the trailer music. What Ensemble 0 (Sylvain Chauveau, Stéphane Garin & Joël Mérah) have composed is something tonally different: more subdued, as lighthearted as falling snow. LAAPS is giving it the full treatment, along with white vinyl option, perfect for this time of year.
The tracks are as brief as flurries, the shortest only eleven seconds (where were you when I was making mix tapes in the 90s?), and even the longest coming up just short of two and a half minutes. There’s little time to appreciate one before the next, but tougher they establish a playful mood.
The LP begins peacefully, with soft piano joined by swiftly expanding orchestral elements. “Les Grands Espaces” draws the listener in, creating a sonic world. The snow is falling; the stage is set; now we are ready to settle in, whether in theatre seats or a coach at home. The warm guitar of the following piece suggests such a home, mirroring the plot (a woman arriving back home to see her brothers). But the aforementioned eleven second piece, “Le Retour De Coline,” is like a pratfall, the woodblock suggesting that not everything is going to go as planned. These moods will soon begin to alternate, thwarting expectations on how the plot might go. Through it all, Ensemble 0 will keep its poise, mirroring both the internal dynamics and the wide expanse of snow.
“Christophe” (the protagonist’s former love) receives a bell-laden theme, nostalgic as a cherished memory. In contrast, “Sophie” receives a forbidding series of notes, suggesting that Sophie may be a rival. Considering the fact that the ensuing track is translated “A Night in a Cell,” one imagines a fracas; but the bells soon return, now connected to Coline. One begins to hear them as welcoming bells in a winter diner, or the collar bells of sled dogs; given their timbre, one might also think of Father Christmas (not to our knowledge a character in the film). This allows the listener to think outside the box office, zeroing in on the wintry mood set by the trio.
Brass glows up “Ole Et Martika,” introducing new themes. In contrast, the chime-laden “Retour A La Vie” (“Return to Life”) is icy at the start, but melts by the end. The album also starts to work its magic on the listener, the sole exception being the too-abrupt cutoff of “It’s a Good Day to Die,” but considering the title, it’s understandable. We hope everybody’s okay.
The metallic percussion increases, implying increasing drama and possible resolution. By “La Chanson De Ole Et Martika,” the warmth has returned. The closing (title) track revisits the earlier themes and turns toward joy. Even if the film ends harshly (we doubt it does), the album leaves the listener on a fine, upbeat note, ready to don the parka and face the winter cold. (Richard Allen)