Anne Fontaine offers a modern take on the Snow White fable that is definitely not Disney-style kiddie fare, but whether it will much appeal to adults is a matter of doubt. The script by Fontaine and Pascal Bonitzer begins with a bit of a different fairy tale, that of Cinderella.
Lovely, naive young Claire (Lou de Laâge) is treated as part of the staff of the luxurious hotel her rich, snooty stepmother Maud (Isabelle Huppert) has inherited from the girl’s deceased father. Claire applies herself to her duties, but Maud is angered that the girl has caught the eye of her lover Bernard (Charles Berling) even though she has lost interest in him.
Maud, therefore, arranges for Claire to be abducted, but she escapes her captors and winds up in a forest, where rough huntsman Pierre (Damien Bonnard) saves her from her pursuers and takes her back to his house. There she meets his twin brother François and their housemate, moody cellist Vincent (Vincent Macaigne).
Vincent introduces Claire to town vet Sam (Jonathan Cohen) and Charles (Benoît Poelvoorde), the lascivious owner of the village bookstore, along with his shy karate-champion son Clément (Pablo Pauly), as well as avuncular Father Guibaud (Richard Fréchette), the priest who oversees the town’s pilgrimage sanctuary. All seven men are enchanted by her, but one becomes obsessive and jealous.
Meanwhile, Maud, advised by a spooky fortuneteller, follows Claire to the village with murderous intent. Two of her attempts are thwarted by Claire’s admirers, but a third turns out differently; Maud gets her comeuppance in Father Guibaud’s sanctuary, but whether it represents a miracle or an accident will be up to the viewer to decide. Allusions to the Snow White story are sprinkled throughout the film: Maud has a thing for mirrors, and one delicious episode features a bright red poisoned apple (though with a contemporary eye toward female empowerment, it eschews ending with a reawakening kiss from a prince, though all seven admirers congregate at her bedside to demonstrate their affection).
White as Snow has undoubted attractions, especially in the gorgeous if dramatically limited de Laâge and the supremely haughty Huppert. With its two gorgeous stars, striking exteriors shot in the French Alpine region, luscious cinematography, and magnificent costumes—particularly those designed for Huppert—it always keeps the eye engaged. When it comes to the brain or the heart, however, it is much less successful. With a trailer as the sole bonus feature, this is only optional.