The Climb

Imagine being so "down bad" for someone that you’d rather face a literal avalanche than another night of being "just friends." That is the kinetic, slightly delirious energy fueling The Climb (2017), a French gem that manages to be both a nail-biting adventure and a genuinely sweet rom-com. I watched this while recovering from a particularly nasty bout of food poisoning—the kind where even moving your head feels like a feat of athleticism—and Samy’s struggle to breathe at 8,000 meters felt oddly relatable.

The film follows Samy (Ahmed Sylla), a charming, unemployed dreamer from the housing projects of La Courneuve. To prove to his childhood crush Nadia (Alice Belaïdi) that he’s capable of more than just talk, he impulsively promises to climb Mount Everest. The catch? He’s never even been on a proper hike. What starts as a grand romantic gesture quickly turns into a media sensation back in France, as a local radio station (featuring the high-energy Kévin Razy and Waly Dia) turns his amateur expedition into a national underdog story.

From the Projects to the Peak

In an era where mountaineering movies are usually grim, high-stakes tragedies featuring bearded men screaming into the wind, The Climb feels like a breath of fresh Himalayan air. It’s based on the true story of Nadir Dendoune, who actually reached the summit in 2008 despite having zero climbing experience. I love how the film leans into the sheer absurdity of the premise. Samy arrives at the airport with a massive suitcase that looks better suited for a weekend in St. Tropez than a trek through the Death Zone.

Most mountaineering movies are just expensive ways to watch rich people get frostbite, but this one actually has a soul. The cinematography by Yannick Ressigeac captures the terrifying scale of the Khumbu Icefall, but the camera stays glued to Ahmed Sylla's expressive face. Sylla, a stand-up comedian by trade, is a revelation here. He doesn't play Samy as a buffoon; he plays him as a man discovering a strength he didn't know he possessed. When he finally trades his city sneakers for crampons, you feel the weight of every step.

The film also does something subtle but vital regarding representation. By putting a young Senegalese-French man from the banlieues (the suburbs often stereotyped in French media as places of crime or despair) in the middle of a "white" sport like mountaineering, director Ludovic Bernard (who cut his teeth as an assistant director on big-budget flicks like Luc Besson’s Lucy) subverts the typical narrative. Samy isn't there to represent a "struggle"; he’s there because he’s a guy in love. It’s a refreshing take that feels very "now," acknowledging the cultural divide of modern France without turning the movie into a heavy-handed social lecture.

The Sherpa, the Suit, and the Subverted Tropes

The heart of the movie isn't just the romance with Nadia; it’s the relationship between Samy and his guide, Jeff (Nicolas Wanczycki). Jeff is the quintessential "serious mountain man," and their chemistry provides the movie's best comedic beats. The way Samy manages to win over the skeptical Sherpas and his grizzled guide through sheer earnestness is infectious. It’s a classic buddy-comedy dynamic, but set against a backdrop where a single misstep means a very long, very cold fall.

Interestingly, the production itself was its own kind of adventure. Unlike many contemporary films that rely heavily on "The Volume" or green screens, the crew actually filmed at Everest Base Camp and on the glaciers of Mont Blanc. That authenticity matters. You can see the actual physical toll on the actors—the red-rimmed eyes, the chapped lips, the genuine exhaustion. It gives the film a weight that purely digital spectacles lack.

I’ll admit, the rom-com elements back in Paris are a bit more predictable. Alice Belaïdi is wonderful, but her character is mostly relegated to looking worriedly at the news while the rest of the neighborhood cheers. However, the film avoids the "spoiler culture" trap of its era by focusing less on if he makes it and more on why he’s doing it. The community spirit portrayed in La Courneuve provides a warm counterpoint to the isolation of the mountain.

Why It Vanished into the Streaming Mist

Despite being a massive hit in France, The Climb (or L'Ascension) largely exists as a "hidden gem" on streaming platforms like Netflix internationally. It’s one of those films that suffered from the "subtitles barrier" in the US, released during a period when the industry was still figuring out how to market international comedies to a global audience. It’s a shame, because it has all the hallmarks of a crowd-pleaser.

If you’re looking for a movie that captures that 2010s-onward shift toward diverse, life-affirming storytelling without the cynical edge of many modern blockbusters, this is it. It’s a film that believes in people, which is a rare commodity these days. It’s the perfect "Sunday afternoon" movie—low stress, high reward, and guaranteed to make you feel like you should probably go for a walk (even if it's just to the fridge).

Ultimately, The Climb succeeds because it doesn't try to be Everest or Touching the Void. It’s an intimate human story wrapped in an epic landscape. Ahmed Sylla carries the film with a performance that is equal parts hilarious and harrowing, making us root for a guy who is clearly out of his depth but refuses to drown. It’s a testament to the fact that sometimes, the biggest obstacles aren't the mountains we climb, but the expectations people have of us back at the bottom.

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