Journey to Iceland

Or, to be more specific, Journey to the Center of the Earth (2008). I've been waiting for this to be available through Netflix. While the reviews haven't been stellar, I was looking forward to a movie with a touch of Iceland. After all, it features Snæfellsjökull and Icelandic actress Anita Briem. Alas, that isn't enough.

As the film began, my impressions were: It's got everything! Disneyland rides, longing for a lost Dad, technicolor terror, a history mystery. But then the opportunities to suspend disbelief started to become too numerous.


I asked John if he thought the film was campy, tongue-in-cheek? He asked me to think about who the film was intended for. Hmmm. That put it in a different light. Kids? Young kids? Kids too young to tell the difference between a bad movie and a really bad movie? Well, that would be really young kids.

The Iceland shots were enjoyable, and...note for dads of really young kids... Anita Briem looks great in a wet t-shirt. But ...moms... Brendan Fraser doesn't--really he doesn't. The best line was when Sean (Josh Hutcherson) said he wished he had read the book.

Kinda fun but gets old fast, some cool scenes and effects but also a lot of really pathetic ones. Anyway, you can skip this one, and if you don't believe me you can take Batty's word for it.

I award it two puffins (assuming the intended viewer is about ten years old).

Salka Valka

Salka Valka, by Halldór Laxness. Translated by F. H. Lyon. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1963. 429 pgs.



This book has an interesting history. It was originally published in Icelandic in two volumes, in 1931 and 1932. It was translated into Danish in 1934. The Danish edition was translated into English and revised by Laxness, and published in one volume (1936). English editions are in short supply and typically very expensive, and there weren't any copies at any nearby libraries. I was fortunate to borrow a copy from Professor Batty.

Salka Valka is the tale of a precocious little girl named Salvör Valgerdur. Salka's mother, Sigurlina, has fled the north to seek a better life in the south of Iceland, but they stop off in the tiny town of Oseyri and never leave. Sigurlina is as weak as her daughter is strong. Sigurlina desires to be a good woman, but fate and love seem to conspire otherwise.

Unlike her mother, Salka learns: she learns how to read books, how to read people, and she learns from her mistakes. We meet Salka as a rough, uneducated, illegitimate girl, who speaks her mind with complete honesty even when it means being rude. She isn't afraid of anyone, and her imposing looks and strength inspire admiration and yearning in those around her. Salka's hard work and determination bring her out of poverty and earn her independence, and throughout her hard life she finds the resources to help others along the way, through friendship and material means. Her only weakness turns out to be her lifelong love for a weak man.

Laxness brings his familiar irony and humor, pathos and tenderness to this work. When Salka fears that her mother is dead, the old man they live with comforts her in the only way he can, with his honesty:

...it's no use crying in this place; there's nobody to console one but oneself. I've lived in Oseyri now for over sixty years. Perhaps you young people will be able to become human beings, even if we older ones haven't succeeded. But it's late already. And there's nothing so good as sleep, both for those who are blind and for those who still have their sight. So we'll look after one another a little, so far as we can, if we should wake again to-morrow. There's so little people can do for each other in this place. Good night.

Salka Valka's story is the story of loneliness, despair, politics, power, compassion, lust, poverty, fish, and the Salvation Army. Most of all it is the story of a love strong enough to make the ultimate sacrifice; a noble, strong generosity of heroic proportions.

A Swedish movie version of Salka Valka was produced in 1954. It is largely unavailable in the U.S. Have you seen it? I would love to! There was also a Finnish TV version done in 1979.

Beowulf and Grendel

Directed by Sturla Gunnarsson, 2005.

Grendel, clay pen that writes in blood-red ink.
by Rachael, a Godwin student.

For a good time: spend an evening (or several) with Beowulf, aka Gerard ("I don't get all that mad") Butler, whata hunk.

What's the Iceland connection with Beowulf/Grendel? Director Sturla Gunnarsson is Icelandic, and it was filmed entirely in Iceland, with a number of Icelandic actors. Ingvar E. Sigurðsson does a wonderful job as Grendel--Grendel the troll, that is. (He also stars as Erlendur in Mýrin, which I'll happily review if I ever get the opportunity to see it, grrrr.)

This is one to see! Honestly, it's great, even if for those who don't like blood and gore (just cover your eyes at the appropriate times). I love the dialogue:

"A storm came up and ate our boat."

"Christ, eh? Is he any good with trolls?"

"Why did you kill him?" "He crossed our path--took a fish."

This film is a visual treat: much of it was filmed around Vík, Jökulsárlón, Skógarfoss and Höfn, with truly stunning scenery (hence four puffins). Grendel is portrayed creatively, and the film was made without computer graphics, animation or special effects. The dialogue is contemporary English, complete with slang. Accents are an eclectic mixture of Scottish, Icelandic, Canadian, Swedish. Atmospheric but not too intrusive, the beautiful musical score is composed by Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson (Cold Fever, Devil's Island, Children of Nature). Don't miss the Director's Commentary: complete with hurricanes, volcanoes, wind and rock storms, 40 foot surf, foul weather, and lots of unforeseen challenges, Gunnarsson could have written a fascinating book about the process of bringing this film to fruition.

101 Reykjavík

This is the first feature film that Baltasar Kormákur wrote and directed, although he was already well-known as an actor at the time it was produced (2000). Hlynur (played by the versatile and talented Hilmir Snær Guðnason) is the anti-hero: 30 years old and unemployed, still living at home with his mother, an outsider who can't seem to connect with people except through drinking and/or sex. While Hlynur is having trouble coping with the most basic parts of his existence, his mother complicates things by bringing home her incredibly sexy lesbian lover. And we thought Hlynur was confused before.

I enjoyed 101 more the first time I watched it: the surprises were intact, the humor fresh, each lovely shot of Reykjavík a visual treat. It features excellent acting and great music. On my second viewing I found myself wishing for more nuance and subtlety. Nevertheless it's an entertaining film, and one you're not likely to forget.

Do you know Nói?

Nói Albínói. Directed by Dagur Kári, 2004.



Imagine my surprise when Gabe´s friend Cliff picked up my Netflix copy of Nói and said, "Hey, this is a really great film." I don't have too many acquaintances that share my love of Icelandic film! I did find out that our university library and our local independent video store both have it. I just finished watching it for the second time, and liked it even better than the first.

Nói is an outsider in many ways. Casting him as an albino just emphasizes his otherness. He has a shaven head, a basement hideaway. He wants to connect to others, but can't. He does connect with Iris, another outsider, but their relationship has a doomed feel.

Nói is very bright, but doesn't choose to conform at school. In one scene he decides to send his tape recorder in instead of attending class himself. Not a bad idea, really; this way he would be able to keep up and not be a distraction to the other students--kind of like long distance learning, right? His teacher doesn't see it that way. As is so often the case in education, the problem isn't the one student who refuses to do things "the right way", but rather what would happen if other students chose a similar path.

Nói doesn't live in a traditional family, but that isn't unusual in Iceland, or other places for that matter. He lives with his batty grandmother, and spends some time with his Dad, a dysfunctional individual who drinks too much, can't control his temper, regrets his wasted life, and is hopelessly waiting...for who knows what?

Will Nói will ever find a place to belong? He uses an old viewfinder to "escape" to Hawaii, and perhaps it is only that kind of distance which will afford him a fresh start.

A shotgun is featured in three memorable scenes. First, his grandmother uses it as an alarm clock. She shoots it out the window: "Nói, you're going to be late for school." Later in the film Nói tries unsuccessfully to hold up the local bank. But his reputation precedes him, and no one will take him seriously. In a telling scene huge icicles from a frozen waterfall hang motionless, suspended, waiting for a thaw. Nói blasts them down with the shotgun, precipitating their transformation. That sort of raw, unexpected violence may be what Nói himself needs in order to change.

The commentary by youthful director Dagur is worth listening to after seeing the film. He refers to the ambiguity of the action and his main character: is the film dealing with tragedy or liberation? Either way, it treats the subject with a lot of humor, a discerning touch, and great acting.

Seagull's Laughter

Mávahlátur, by Ágúst Guðmundsson, 2001.





This Icelandic film is readily available in the U.S. through Netflix. It takes place in a small town near Reykjavik in the 1950's, and concerns a young woman, Freyja, who has returned from America. We see Freyja through the eyes of her 11-year-old "cousin" Agga, who is a part-admiring, part-suspicious observer. Freyja comes to stay with a household of women (Grandfather is usually away at sea), and all of the things that can happen in a household of women, do. And some. The drama is frequently portrayed in a droll, bemused manner.

At one point Freyja goes into the lava mountains at night, and Agga runs to wake her grandmother. "I think she's gone to dance with the elves!" Grandmother: "Was she wearing her Sunday shoes?" "No, her boots." Grandmother: "Well, she won't be doing much dancing in them." And grandmother rolls over and promptly goes back to sleep.

Grandma's impassiveness is constant and amusing. Whenever an unwelcome guest arrives, Grandma asks "Would you care for fresh coffee?" as the other womenfolk of the household intimidate the visitor into leaving. After a violent fight Grandma is quite upset...because "I seem to have completely run out of coffee substitute."

Did Freyja kill her American husband? Is she a witch? Will she revenge herself on her childhood friends who called her fatty? (Those friends are not calling the perfectly proportioned beauty "fatty" anymore.) We can't help but wonder what Freyja is capable of--she is clearly someone that you wouldn't want to anger. Despite her vanity and her willingness to use her beauty for her own ends, she also displays a protective, caring, and fun-loving side; her unpredictable temperament is appealing. The scene where she invites three town drunks into her fancy home to shock the locals is charming.

This film is like the perfect blend of coffee: various flavors in just the right amount. It is light and dark, cold and hot, funny and tragic. It is about the supreme test of wills, about strong women who chose to control their destiny (by whatever means necessary? perhaps.) It is exceedingly clever, and the acting, filmography and script are wonderful. In particular, Ugla Egilsdóttir, who plays young Agga, is a marvelous actress. See for yourself!

I wish that other films by Gudmundsson were available here...there are some available in university libraries that I will try to borrow.

Cold Fever

A 1995 film by Friðrik Þór Friðriksson.










Atsushi (a name that means "industrious") is a hard-working Japanese businessman looking forward to a well-earned golf vacation in Hawaii. But his life takes a sharp turn toward the unexpected when his conscience belatedly gets his attention: his presence is needed in Iceland, where his parents died some years before. Atsushi must honor his parents by finding the site where they died, so that their spirits may find rest. Giving up his golf vacation and his dreams of sunny beaches in Hawaii is the easy part.

Atsushi's odyssey takes him to increasingly remote and uninhabited parts of Iceland, where he meets some very eccentric people. We can't help but contrast this with his life in crowded, urban Japan, where personalities are more conventional. He leaves the semblance of the familiar in Reykjavík for mystical, magical country snowscapes where the unreal seems possible--or even probable.

We look through Atsushi's eyes at strange customs and events in a land where nothing is familiar and little is explained. It is refreshing to draw one's own conclusions, or make one's own guesses about this strange land and quirky people. There is so much to pique your curiosity. Does everyone sing in Iceland? What on earth are they eating? Do they really believe in mythical creatures? Do I really believe in mythical creatures?

Roger Ebert, in a very favorable review, admits to knowing little about Iceland prior to watching this film, and concludes: "I can now imagine visiting Iceland...". I hope you can too!

Friðriksson directed Children of Nature, another exceptionally fine film. Don't miss either of these.

Hybrid

No, not my Prius, this film:

Little Trip to Heaven, directed by Baltasar Kormákur. 2005. Featuring Forest Whitaker and Julia Stiles. Filmed in Iceland and Minnesota. Drama. "There is no such thing as a no fault death."


This Iceland/US hybrid might have been called "Lost in Translation." Oops, that was used already (another film I expected to like, but which I found stultifyingly dull).

An insurance claims inspector investigates a suspicious death and a one-million-dollar policy involving an abused (and, of course, lovely and young) woman and her--brother? husband?
Dark, cold, atmospheric scenery that enhances the foreboding feel of the film. Excellent acting on the part of the ever-versatile and appealing Forest Whitaker.

The film has Icelandic scenery, some good acting, and lots of suspense. But it is disjointed--the plot doesn't hang together, and it is a disappointing effort by a director with at least two exceptionally fine films under his belt (The Sea, 101 Reykjavík). I am expecting Kormákur's Myrín not to disappoint! When will I be able to see it?

The Sea, or Hafið

Do you enjoy conflict? You know, the kind of stress you experience at Thanksgiving dinner when disparate family members reunite and old animosities flare up? Here is a movie about the ultimate dysfunctional family. This family has everything: substance abuse, incest, violence, jealousy, ulterior motives and altruism. Maybe even redemption.

Director Baltasar Kormákur is known for his highly regarded 101 Reykjavik, and most recently for the favorably reviewed Mýrin. He also directed No Such Thing (good concept; bad film). The Sea features superb acting, screenwriting and cinematography.

The story centers around the adult children of þórður, the owner of a fish processing plant. Thordur wants to keep the plant going, both to provide employment for the community and as a legacy for his family. He is proud of having built the company, and is determined that one of his sons will take over when he retires. His youngest son Agust, meanwhile, is living a lie—several lies—and while his father thinks he is at University getting a business degree he is actually a composer/songwriter. Agust is in an ambiguous relationship with his lover Francoise, who has recently become pregnant with his child. The action of the film builds around a trip that Agust and Francoise take from Paris to Iceland, reigniting old tensions and passions, and bringing old secrets to life. All of the family members convene at their father’s home, and the viewer is treated to drama that is as big as the stark, towering landscapes, and a plot that is funny, tragic, and surprising. This is a movie that you are likely to want to watch twice. It is hard to appreciate all the fine points in just one viewing.

The Sea (2002) won eight awards that are the Icelandic version of the Oscar. It is available from Netflix. Interestingly, the film location is Neskaupstaður, a remote fjord that recently has found its economy growing due to a controversial aluminum smelter and hydroelectric power plant.

My First Icelandic Movie

A number of years ago I went to our local independent video store, Video Fan, in search of Icelandic films. One of the women working there had been to Iceland and could recommend a few titles that they owned. Remote Control, or Sodoma Reykjavik (Oskar Jonasson, 1993) was the first one I saw. It was light and funny, and I could see what contemporary Iceland looks like (all of my mental images having previously been supplied by Laxness and the Sagas). I then began to seek out any Icelandic films that I could find.

Netflix has since come on the scene, and they have a few Icelandic offerings. They aren't as responsive as I would like, when I request an Icelandic film that they don't own. They just don't know how many of us are out here, waiting to enjoy Icelandic cinema!

I'm not sure how many puffins to assign to Remote Control. It has been so many years, and the Video Fan copy has long since disappeared. (No, I do not have it.) All I can say is, I wasn't disappointed. If you get the chance, watch it.

Meanwhile, I'll review some films that are more readily available soon.

And...watch for diacritics, coming to this blog soon!

Journey to the Center of the Earth

I am currently reading the 1864 Jules Verne science fiction novel. What good timing! A new film version is in progress! It is due for release in summer 2007 and features Brendan Fraser, Anita Briem and Josh Hutcherson. Anita Briem is an Icelandic actress, and it was filmed in Iceland. This version is placed in a contemporary setting. It appears that Jules Verne never actually visited Iceland.

No Such Thing
Directed by Hal Hartley, 2001
Filmed in Iceland




Only two puffins--need I say more? A loosely updated Beauty and the Beast. Good makeup and special effects; cute girl; great scenery. Billed as a fairy tale, this is a distinct case of confused identity. Nothing more to say, unless you want to hear the negatives. If you want the negatives, watch the film.

Children of Nature




Director Fridrik Thor Fridriksson produced this film in 1991. The subtle, atmospheric music is by Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson. The story centers around two elderly folks who meet in a retirement home. Porgeir has just arrived from his farm in the country, and he meets up with Stella, an old friend from his childhood days in the Western Fjords. The staff of the retirement home don't treat the elderly residents with much respect, and there are plenty of rules to chafe against, especially for a nonconformist like Stella. Stella and Porgeir conceive a plan to run away and go back to the northwest to rediscover their roots, and...but I won't give it all away.

This is a very beautiful, humorous, gentle and slow-paced film. It portrays the power and magnetism of the Icelandic countryside, the magic and mystery inherent in the wild, inexplicable environment, and the laconic, straightforward nature of its people. I recommend it to anyone with the patience to appreciate a very leisurely, distilled beauty.

My Rant: Anthony Bourdain Offends My National Pride

Rating: no puffins

OK, so I don't have much Icelandic blood in me. Well, not any, actually. But I was insulted by Bourdain's Iceland-Special Edition which aired recently on the Travel Channel.

I have viewed a number of Icelandic travel films, and haven't seen any that were worthwhile. So I had high hopes for this one, and settled in for an interesting evening. I never would have watched the whole show if I had imagined that it could maintain such a high level of meaninglessness throughout.

Bourdain is self-abosorbed and shallow, and seems to think it very amusing to insult the people who are his hosts and guides. This is a "scene by scene commentary" typical of feature films on DVD. If there is a "real" film that goes with this, I don't want to see it.