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“The Snow Was Deep and the Polar Night Was Underway” | Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, FOLKTALES
FOLKTALES, courtesy of Sundance Institute. Films are made over many days, but some days are more memorable, and important, than others. Imagine yourself in ten years looking back on this production. What day from your film’s development, production or post do you think you’ll view as the most significant and why?
Rachel Grady:
Shot in the stunning Norwegian Arctic, FOLKTALES was a project that tested us daily. With long stretches of shooting while exposed to freezing temperatures, combined with the creative demands of filming, it was formidable. These challenges were matched by extraordinary moments of beauty and a deep connection to the sublime wilderness.
If I had to choose a day of profound personal significance, it would be the week before Christmas. The students were performing their annual ritual: cutting through two feet of frozen river ice to create a dunking pool. Each person tied a rope around their waist and anchored themselves to the surface, a precaution against the river’s powerful current. I stood in awe, watching each brave individual descend the ladder into the -30°F water. Then, an unexpected realization struck me—I had to take the plunge myself.
For someone who’s spent a lifetime complaining about the cold, this was an unimaginable challenge just moments earlier. There was no time to overthink. I stripped down to my undergarments and wool socks, jumped into the icy abyss, climbed the ladder, and sprinted across a football-field-sized frozen tundra to the waiting sauna. And you know what? We’re all capable of doing very hard things. I stepped into fear and will never have the same relationship to the cold again.
Heidi Ewing:
My most memorable day of production on FOLKTALES was in November 2024. The students at Pasvik Folk High School were about to endure their “solo nights,” which consisted of venturing into the frozen forest with little more than a tarp, some food and a sled dog to keep them company. Their mission? To spend two days and nights alone in the woods, to build a fire and keep it going, without losing their s**t. My mission? To visually and emotionally capture the students’ highs and lows, fears and triumphs while not interfering or being seen by them or their teachers, who would sporadically check-in on their progress.
It being November in Arctic Norway, the temperature was below zero, the snow was deep and the Polar Night was underway. That meant that we (me, my two ace cinematographers, our miracle-working sound recordist and unflappable field producer—all Norwegian) would have to hike several kilometers to the location with our gear each day and sneak around in waist-deep snow, using an absurdly long safari lens in complete darkness, with the students’ headlamps as our only light source.
One of our main subject’s, Romain, was particularly averse to the solo trip, convinced that he was not up the task, that he was sure to fail. We had been filming Romain for months, and all of us felt deeply invested in the outcome of this test he had reluctantly signed up for. We spent hours patiently watching Romain collect wood, try to light a fire, fail, give up, go for help (to no avail), get cross with his teachers, and start over again. Several hours into this ritual of pure frustration (for him), the Northern lights began to dance above us, and I realized we were not just shooting a movie but holding sacred, cinematic vigil for a kid within reach of a small but gargantuan win.
You’ll have to see the film to see how it all turned out, but I can tell you it’s my favorite sequence in Folktales and my most vivid memory of the production, mostly because every person in my crew was at their very best: awake, alive, and hyper-engaged in the ephemeral act of chronicling a real life in detail as it unfolds.
After our second night of shooting, we hiked down the freshly powdered hill to charge our camera’s batteries, and our own. Our fingers and cheeks were frozen, our breath visible with each step. But somehow, I didn’t feel tired at all. I felt just felt love. Love for Romain who had learned something about bravery. Love for my dedicated gang of intrepid Norwegian movie bandits. And most of all, love for the privilege I have of making films
