Society of the Snow: Third Andes Disaster Film

Netflix launches third version of Andes tragedy

Was a third movie about the Andes survivors necessary? This question has dominated discussions since Netflix added Society of the Snow, J.A. Bayona's adaptation of P.P. Reid's book, to its catalog. It is not the first time this material has reached the screen; the story was already filmed in **1976** and **1993**. Much of the audience recognizes the narrative—and its ending—before the footage begins, which conditions everything that trinc. Three adaptations for a single book is, at minimum, an indication that the story works.

One story brought to cinema three times

P.P. Reid's book has fueled three adaptations. The first, from **1976**, was titled Survive! in English and released in Spain as Los supervivientes de los Andes. The second, in **1993**, was Alive (Viven), antiestéticaturing **Ethan Hawke** in the cast. The third is Bayona's, arriving on Netflix after its theatrical run.

The most repeated complaint concerns the copycat nature. It is argued that this is not a standard remake, but rather three versions of the same material telling the same story point by point, with more or fewer resources and better or worse actors. The comparison becomes harsh against the nineties film: recently, some have dismissed it as a TV movie next to the new one. What does change between versions is the language and the cast, where the recent production receives praise. Some even joke that the industry repeats the story periodically to avoid losing exploitation rights, as if it were a franchise.

Why is this version said to lack an agenda?

One of the most circulating ideas is that the film escapes the label of a message-driven product for a simple reason: it is a real, recent story with living survivors. When the narrative is so close to the facts, the margin for reinterpretation is minimal. Added to this is that the bulk of the action involves men isolated in a hostile environment, a scenario not conducive to grafting parallel plots.

Not everyone buys this argument. Some point out that the film itself includes a passage on consent in a context—a group of young men educated in religious schools in the early seventies—where that debate held no central place. For another part of the audience, this is a minor detail that does not tarnish the whole. The discussion, in any case, moves between suspicion and applause, and fidelity to the book is what many value above all else.

Spanish cast and the cannibalism hurdle

One point where almost everyone agrees is the language. The film is shot in Spanish, with Uruguayan and Argentine protagonists, something highlighted as a success compared to previous installments with Anglo-Saxon casts. However, according to several comments, this choice also earned the film prior rejection due to its origin.

The other delicate issue is the central theme of survival: eating the bodies of the deceased. It is the point any adaptation must resolve without falling into sensationalism, and here the discussion splits between those who believe it is handled soberly and those who think it is dwelled upon more than necessary. For many, the second half, starting from the avalanche, is where the film truly grows.

Will it compete for an Oscar?

The final stretch of the conversation looks toward awards season. The film sounds like a candidate to take home the statuette for Best International Antiestéticature Film, although the outcome was not settled when these messages were written. Some assume it will happen, while others warn that the competition is tough. For the most skeptical, interest in awards is the only reason this third version exists.

The ironic detail that repeats is Netflix's role. The platform, often questioned for the type of content it produces or buys, appears here backing a film with a homogeneous cast and classic craftsmanship. That the debate centers on whether this is merit or exception says a lot about the current moment.

The drift: from cinema to identity hostility

Not all conversation stays on the screen. In several segments, the exchange slides into hostile comments about immigration and relationships between people of different origins, with derogatory generalizations toward groups and toward women who date migrants. Those messages are not supported by any data and function as venting, not analysis.

What is striking is that the issue of language and casting, which should be a source of pride, ends up mixed with that conflict. The film was shot in the language and accents of those who lived through the tragedy. That is the fact.

In the end, the question nobody resolves is not whether Bayona did it better or worse than his predecessors. It is how long it will take someone to tell the same story again with different actors and another budget. Reid's book has lasted half a century; the niche, however, is running out.