iceland

Backyard

by James McNally on January 31, 2012 · 0 comments

in Documentaries,DVD

Backyard

Backyard (Director: Árni Sveinsson): While it’s true that I’ve long been a fan of Icelandic cinema, I have been a fan of Icelandic music for even longer. In the late 1980s, a band called The Sugarcubes and their elfin singer Björk intro­duced me to the unique sounds of this tiny country, and since then, I’ve come to love dozens of bands from Iceland. Someone in another recent doc­u­mentary about Iceland’s seem­ingly bound­less cre­ativity said that the fear of failure is almost nonex­istent, so people take risks. They also help each other out, which is exactly how Backyard came to be.

Each August the city of Reykjavik cel­eb­rates Menningarnótt (Reykjavik Culture Night), a daylong cel­eb­ra­tion of the cre­ative spirit of its cit­izens. There are all kinds of offi­cial and unof­fi­cial events, and in 2009, Árni Rúnar Hlöðversson (of FM Belfast) decided to hold a con­cert in his back­yard and invite his friends to play. He wanted to record the audio, but he also invited his friend Árni Sveinsson to shoot video. None of the bands (or even the two Árnis) thought they were making a “real” movie, so the whole thing is incred­ibly loose. Based on my own exper­i­ences in Iceland, most things organ­ized are “incred­ibly loose.” Icelanders like to fly by the seat of their pants, to be honest, but it gives the film a real energy, too.

Though we get the back­ground around the plan­ning (which seems to happen in a matter of days), the majority of the film’s brisk 73-minute run­ning time is given over to the per­form­ances, and what a treat. The lineup is incred­ibly diverse, from the lo-fi styl­ings of Borko and Sin Fang Bous to the raucous assault of Reykjavik! to the feel-good party sounds of Retro Stefson and FM Belfast (whose finale “Underwear” is guar­an­teed have you boun­cing around your living room grin­ning like an idiot). And though the musical styles change, it’s great to see how many bands actu­ally share mem­bers. In a small place like Iceland, this might be a neces­sity but it also allows for some very inter­esting musical cross-pollination. It’s fit­ting that the film ends with many of the musi­cians soaking together in one of Reykjavik’s thermal swim­ming pools.

Some of these bands (múm, Hjaltalín) were known to me, but most were new dis­cov­eries, and luckily the DVD package (buy it here!) comes with an audio CD of the songs as well. It’s been on con­stant rota­tion over the past few months for me, rein­for­cing my sin­cere belief that Iceland is pound-for-pound the most cre­ative place on the planet.

Official site of the film

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One Foot Under (Toinen jalka haudasta)

Nordic Nights returns for another season! This monthly screening series of Finnish and Icelandic films takes place at the NFB Mediatheque (150 John St.). Tickets for the Icelandic films are $10 ($8 for stu­dents and seniors), while the Finnish ones screen for free. All screen­ings fea­ture English sub­titles and begin at 7:00pm, pre­ceded by a free recep­tion at 6:00pm. Here’s the schedule for the next few months:

I’ll attempt to update this as more inform­a­tion is confirmed.

Nordic Nights is presented by the Finnish and Icelandic con­su­lates in Toronto as well as the Icelandic Canadian Club of Toronto.

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Bjarnfreðarson)

Bjarnfreðarson (Director: Ragnar Bragason): Based on a pop­ular Icelandic tele­vi­sion show, Bjarnfreðarson topped the domestic box office for sev­eral weeks last Christmastime, besting even James Cameron’s Avatar. Although I sus­pect that famili­arity with some of the TV show’s plot­lines would enrich the exper­i­ence, the film works quite well as a stan­dalone story, and if any­thing, it’s made me eager to seek out the rest of the series.

We first meet Georg Bjarnfreðarson (Jón Gnarr, who co-wrote the script with Bragason) as he’s being granted parole from prison. Despite his protests that he never applied, he’s forced out and we soon under­stand why. Georg is a tyrant, imposing his own will on everyone and everything around him. Flashbacks show us the reasons. The son of a very unique single mother, Georg was raised as a veget­arian fem­inist com­munist and was expected to be a “great man.” Instead, his mis­ad­ven­tures landed him in the slammer. Upon his release, his mother refuses to see him, so he crashes with Daniel, with whom he spent time in prison.

The nerdy Daniel is not someone you’d expect to have a crim­inal record, but appar­ently he got caught up in one of Georg’s schemes and did some time. Now, he’s about to graduate from med­ical school. At least, that’s what his wife and par­ents think. Secretly, he’s been studying art instead. Also living with them is Olafur, another prison buddy. He’s a 40-year-old who thinks he’s still 20, and when he loses his job as a delivery driver, an amazing piece of luck leads him to his true calling as a radio DJ.

Watching these three char­ac­ters interact, it’s no wonder that they’ve fea­tured in an entire series. What the film does, though, is to probe the oddball Georg’s back­story, and in the pro­cess, make us care about him. As we see him being picked on throughout his child­hood, we realize that he’s never known a normal life or normal rela­tion­ships. His desire to bond with the goofy Oli leads to some hil­arity, but in the end, these mis­fits really do need each other.

Though this reminded me in parts of Canada’s own Trailer Park Boys, there was some­thing deeper at work here. Although guilty of a few instances of poor taste (including giving Daniel a mentally-challenged brother-in-law and a father reduced to mum­bling inco­her­ently after a stroke), the film does convey a real sense of out­siders trying to make a new begin­ning, of trying to escape the per­sonas that have been forced upon them. That the film is able to achieve this while also providing plen­tiful laughs is a credit to the filmmakers.

In any case, it has me pre­pared to spend large sums of money to watch the rest of the story. And ship­ping DVDs from Iceland isn’t cheap, you know.

8/10(8/10)

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Dreamland (Draumalandið)

Dreamland (Draumalandið) (Directors: Þhorfinnur Guðnason and Andri Snær Magnasson): My wife and I had the very good for­tune to visit Iceland in September 2008, mere days before the col­lapse of their banking system. Since we were there par­tially to cover the Reykjavik International Film Festival, we were invited to a recep­tion by the won­derful people at the Icelandic Film Centre where we saw clips of films in pro­gress and were able to meet the dir­ectors. One of the most inter­esting pro­jects we saw was Dreamland, based on the best-selling (at least in Iceland) book by Andri Snær Magnasson. I was able to speak to him that day and looking back, his sense of urgency as he warned of the short-sightedness of Iceland’s politi­cians was eerily pres­cient. The ensuing eco­nomic col­lapse has had rami­fic­a­tions around the world. So you can ima­gine how eager I was to finally see the fin­ished film. Unfortunately, my high expect­a­tions were not to be met.

Dreamland starts out well enough, giving a quick primer on recent Icelandic his­tory since achieving inde­pend­ence from Denmark in 1918. Founded to be res­ol­utely neutral, it didn’t take long to become a cog in the Cold War shortly after World War 2. The gov­ern­ment allowed the US mil­itary to build a base at Keflavik, and that base provided 2,000 jobs until it was closed in 2006. In a nation of just 300,000, this was a major eco­nomic blow, and so Iceland’s leaders went looking for a quick fix. With an abund­ance of clean geo-thermal energy, they decided to offer the sur­plus to the alu­minum industry. Aluminum smelting is one of the most energy-intensive and environmentally-unfriendly pro­cesses in the resource busi­ness, but Iceland’s leaders figured that it would all happen in sparsely pop­u­lated areas. Apart from the envir­on­mental effects, though, Magnasson argues that this kind of megapro­ject actu­ally harms the Icelandic eco­nomy in the long run. He’s turned out to be right.

I’m sure in his book, all of this is laid out and argued in a coherent fashion. The same cannot be said for the film. Early on, we’re warned omin­ously by experts that politi­cians often use fear to con­trol the elect­orate. Iceland’s politi­cians warned that if they didn’t build these megapro­jects, the eco­nomy would not grow and that jobs might dis­ap­pear forever. However, Dreamland stoops to the same fear tac­tics to make its case, and the irony seems lost on the film­makers. Ominous music accom­panies aggressive heli­copter fly­overs of unspoiled land­scapes, and these shots are used over and over and over. Half of the talking head inter­views are with Magnasson, who is only iden­ti­fied as “Writer” and not as co-director of the film nor as author of the book on which the film is based. The other inter­views are unhelpful, with some sub­jects seeming to jump from one side of the argu­ment to the other later in the film. Magnasson also presents a few too many shots of farmers and their fam­ilies who will be affected by the alu­minum plants. One or two farmers would have made his point.

The overall effect is that his few valid points are lost as the film becomes a heavy-handed and mind-numbing polemic. One clumsily-edited sequence attempts to equate the envir­on­mental damage of extracting bauxite (aluminum’s raw material) in India with smelting alu­minum in Iceland, when the two pro­cesses are com­pletely different.

I bought a copy of his book in English when I was in Iceland in 2008, and I’m looking for­ward to reading it, now mainly to see how a respected and intel­li­gent journ­alist could turn it into such a jumbled mess of a film.

Official site of the film

6/10(6/10)

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Though there’s scarcely any men­tion of it online, I’ve just been noti­fied about a monthly screening series of Finnish and Icelandic films that takes place at the NFB Mediatheque (150 John St.). Tickets for the Icelandic films are $8, while the Finnish ones screen for free. All screen­ings begin at 7:00pm. Here’s the schedule for the 2009–2010 series:

If you’re a fan of Nordic cinema, and why wouldn’t you be, put these dates in your cal­endar right now and maybe I’ll see you at one of the screenings.

Nordic Nights is presented by the Finnish and Icelandic con­su­lates in Toronto as well as the Icelandic Canadian Club of Toronto.

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