The sun won't rise
January in the Lingenal Alps of Norway. Skier and filmmaker Nikolai Schirmer heads to the south face of Nállangáisi—a 628m elevation difference and a 50° slope. The title, "One mistake and you're fu*ked," is not a sensationalist phrase, but a reflection of the reality of the slope they are climbing
In the Norwegian Arctic region around Tromsø, the sun does not rise from late November until mid-January, a period known as polar night. The Lingenalps, where Narangaissi is located, is a mountain range that extends near Tromsø. Because the sun does not rise above the horizon, even south-facing slopes are less affected by strong sunlight, and snow surface conditions tend to be maintained
However, the appeal of this film isn't simply the act of skiing down a dangerous mountain.
Nikolai's footage doesn't just capture the moment of skiing. It shows the time spent climbing the slope in the darkness, relying on the light of a headlamp, and using crampons and ice axes to gain altitude. It shows the conversations before entering the mountain. It shows the silence as they read the snow conditions and decide how far to go. It shows the weight of entering a single line by including all of these pre-skiing processes.
Accompanying them this time is Hedwig Wessel, one of the world's top skiers, who has competed in the Olympics in moguls and reached the pinnacle of the Freeride World Tour (FWT). Her presence adds another layer of tension to this video. The competitive skiing ability proven in the FWT and mountain skiing, which involves hours of climbing, reading changing snow conditions and weather, and making decisions about equipment selection and physical condition—these two things may seem similar, but they are not the same. The film gradually reveals that difference
Another striking aspect is Hedwig's words. Having achieved her big dream as a competitor, she says that she has spent her life up until now "reaching the top" and "pushing herself even further." However, now that she has achieved her dream, she says that she wants to cherish the experience itself rather than constantly trying to prove something. Even so, the mindset of a top athlete, which is ingrained in her body, does not easily disappear. This film simultaneously portrays her world-class skating ability and the difficulty of telling herself that "you don't always have to push yourself to the limit."
Nikolai's own skiing clearly demonstrates this. On narrow, steep slopes, he doesn't focus on speed, but rather turns his skis carefully, checking his footing with each turn. Even when the slope opens up, he doesn't just let the snow carry him, but carves his lines while observing the movement of the slough on the surface and where he can stop next. This isn't footage that showcases flashy tricks or massive drops. His strength lies in the precision with which he continuously judges his next move on the ever-changing snow
Contrary to its provocative title, this film doesn't depict recklessness. Instead, it portrays the difficulty of constantly refining one's judgment in the mountains.
To go or to stop? To slide or to wait? Should one trust their technique, their physical instincts, or the snow beneath their feet?
Viewers will not only see "how he slipped," but also relive "what he was thinking, what he gave up, and what he chose to do to get there."
What makes Nikolai's videos interesting is that they don't just show the moment of success. The time spent climbing, the time spent hesitating, the conversations, the silences, and the descent—all of these are included to weave the act of freeriding into a single narrative
That's precisely why these 27 minutes of darkness are worth enduring