REVIEW 069eople react to bereavement in different ways.
In the wilds of Iceland, a gruff middle-aged
policeman takes time off work to grieve
for his wife, who died when her car went off-road in
foggy conditions. Ingimundur, played by esteemed
Icelandic actor Ingvar Sigurdsson, is the sort of
furrowed-brow, grey-haired, old-school type who
doesn’t put his emotions on display. Instead, he
throws himself into renovating an isolated property
to make it habitable for his grand-daughter. The film’s
title, we’re informed in an opening caption, refers
to the sort of day, ‘Where you can no longer tell the
difference between the earth and the sky,’ hence
the dead can talk to the living. If that suggests some
sort of supernatural communion, the story which
subsequently unfolds is about an acceptance of reality- however bitter it might be – as a first step towards
moving on.
What’s remarkable about Hlynur Pálmason’s
drama is the way its elemental settings lend
everything an oneiric quality. Yet the scenes play out
with a very real, visceral intensity, especially once
Ingimundur uncovers a uncomfortable secret about
his marriage and seeks an outlet for his anger. In this
rugged landscape, there’s one route in and out, so
the road acquires a kind of mythic status, especially
since the crash site is maintained as a memorial – and
there’s a tunnel through a mountain, which becomes
a weighty metaphor for all the troubles bearing down
on the protagonist. Trouble is, in Sigurdsson’s fierce
performance, the bear-with-a-sore-head approach to
everything doesn’t appear to be getting him anywhere,
bringing bracing conflict with his former colleagues
at the police station, frightening his grandchild to a
distressing degree, and targeting his ire towards a
male acquaintance of his wife through her teaching
job. The mayhem unfolds in some remarkable
unbroken takes, yet Pálmason and Sigurdsson never
lose sight of the healing that’s taking place behind the
glowering looks and gun-toting aggression.
The film’s grip tightens relentlessly, displaying
Pálmason’s rapidly developing confidence, after a first
feature, (2017’s Winter Brothers), which managed to
hypnotically capture the processes of underground
mining, but framed them with a saga of fraternal
tensions which didn’t engage to the same degree.
Here, we grasp early on through Ingimundur’s tender
deportment towards grand-daughter Saika (utterly
believable child actor Ída Mekkin Hlynsdottir),
that goodness is certainly within him, yet his errant
behaviour intensifies the situation, coming closer
to a point of no return, unless he can somehow get
through the barrier of his own rage and resentment.
Which brings us to Pálmason’s pièce de résistance,
a climactic music cue which is as unexpected as
it’s effective in fixing the turbulent feelings of the
moment. It’s credible in being from a record that
Ingimundur might conceivably own, but it also
expresses a make-or-break emotional blow-out with
such precision that the effect is truly jaw-dropping. To
know more, you’ll have to experience it for yourself.
But then you do really need to see this marvellously
conceived and sustained slice of life, which achieves
an austere Beckettian affirmation of the fulfilment of
keeping on, even in the most personally daunting of
circumstances. TREVOR JOHNSTONDirected by
HLYNUR PALMASON
Starring
INGVAR SIGURDSSON
ÍDA MEKKÍN HLYNSDÓTTIR
HILMIR SNÆR GUÐNASON
Released
1 MAY
ANTICIPATION.
Palmason’s second feature has
won prizes at just about every film
festival it’s played at.
ENJOYMENT.
Dreamlike and intense, the
film inexorably draws you into
its grizzly old guy’s exterior
and interior landscape.
IN RETROSPECT.
Rare to experience a film which
is just so sorted in every respect –
emerging talent alert!
A White, White Day
P