Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.04.2010, Blaðsíða 38

The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 04 — 2010
26
I regularly read poetry to Aram, my infant
son. He doesn’t “get it,” of course—no
matter how I try to explain that he’s really
not supposed to understand it but rather
“sense it.” But he seems to like the rhythms of it any-
ways (and/or his father’s theatrical performance), so
I keep at it. I mostly read from this famous little blue
book called Skólaljóð (School Poetry), which contains
all the national classics from Hallgrímur Pétursson
to Steinn Steinarr—the Icelandic poetry canon as it
was compiled in the middle of the last century. And
as I find myself skipping more or less every poem that
deals with God, Christ or Country (about two thirds
of the book), in an attempt not to inadvertently indoc-
trinate my boy as a Christian nationalist, I become
strangely aware of how Icelanders have really never
taken the trouble to properly reevaluate their canon.
There are a couple of newer books, where some old-
ies have been skipped, and a few newbies have been
granted access—but mostly it’s the same ol’ same ol’.
The same sombre tones, the same sombre attitudes
(and when I say newbies, I mean mostly very old new-
bies, most of whom are dead already).
Some things are probably too sacrosanct. It’d be
hard, for instance, to rouse support for changing
the national anthem to something more up-to-date
(I’d vote for Haukur Már Helgason’s Matarsiðir Sýs-
lumannsins í Kópavogi (The Dining Habits of the
District Magistrate in Kópavogur) or Kristín Svava Tó-
masdóttir’s Klof vega menn (Crotches Kill Men)). So
we might have to keep Matthías Jochumsson’s Song
of Praise—“Oh, God of our Country, Country of our
God”—despite the fact that I wouldn’t read the hor-
rendous thing to my son if it’d spawn peace on earth
(well, okay, maybe then, but I want it in writing!).
But how about Bjarni Thorarensen? Hannes Haf-
stein? Do we really need this? How about just cutting
the nationalism and the godliness in its entirety? I,
for one, believe in the power of poetry, the power of
words, of language—and I don’t think this drivel is
doing us any good, nor has it ever. It rots your mind.
If one were to actually reduce Skólaljóð in this
manner, what you’d be left with is nature and a few
verses of Steinarr’s “The Time and the Water”. Now,
nature is fine and all (and knocking Steinarr is a veri-
table crime), but nature and more nature might even-
tually get a little monotonous, believe it or not. So how
about instead of us just picking out what isn’t popular
anymore and inserting a few innocent examples from
newer poets (which seems to have been the method
of composition for anthologies thus far), we enter the
archives and start picking out new interesting exam-
ples from the history of Icelandic poetry? Why, for in-
stance, is there so little of Æri-Tobbi to be found? He’s
hardly even mentioned in the five volume Bókmen-
ntasaga Íslands (Iceland’s Literary History). This is a
serious canonical mistake—“agara gagara” etcetera!
In this process we might also see about finding
some more female poets. Reading anthologies one
might think that women hardly ever wrote poetry
back in the days—but to the contrary, poetry was very
much a feminine sport and indeed most poets were
women. Granted, not all of it got written down, and
collecting the poetry of Icelandic women through-
out the centuries is hardly unproblematic. But it is,
truly and utterly, a cultural heritage (mostly) ignored
(while we spend years debating whether or not sac-
rosanct male poet Jónas Hallgrímsson had syphilis,
and whether saying so aloud is decent or not). And
if there’s anything that gives Icelandic authorities a
hardon, it’s the words “cultural heritage” (attention,
scholars: free grant money!)
A cultural heritage is not an impermeable fact and
it has never been. What we consider important to our
“national image” (a dubious and difficult concept in
and of itself), or to ourselves privately—what we make
available so that I can read it to Aram—isn’t etched in
stone. It’s written on paper and it can and should be
reevaluated every other year or so. A cultural heritage
is a construction like any other, we define it—it is not
an otherwordly, uncontrollable entity which controls
us—we control it. And so we should if, at all, we give a
damn.
poetry | Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl
Canon Fodder
news | Marc Vincenz
Last month the London Times contem-
plated volcanic fallout in 2010 due to
the inevitable eruption of Katla; Alþingi
agreed to rent out Keflavík’s former
NATO base to a privately-owned military
company (strangely, this news received
little attention in the international media);
and President Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson
suggested flogging Iceland’s NATO ma-
rine facilities as a way station (for when
the polar ice cap has melted through).
Newsweek recently confirmed China’s
interested in taking over the abandoned
NATO naval base (which perhaps
explains why Iceland was not invited to
the recent Arctic countries meeting in
Canada?).
What else is up for grabs? Well, cer-
tainly no strip clubs—that business model
is now firmly a thing of the past.
On March 25, the Guardian hailed Ice-
land as the world’s most feminist country.
As of July 1, it is illegal for any business
to profit from the nudity of employees.
This makes Iceland the first country in
the world to ban stripping for “feminist
reasons”. Kolbrún Halldórsdóttir, former
Minister for the Environment, was quoted
as saying: “I guess the men of Iceland
will just have to get used to the idea that
women are not for sale.”
On March 31, following the lead
of Fitch Ratings, Standard & Poor’s
(S&P) lowered Iceland’s credit rating
to BBB/A-3, which for all intents and
purposes is pretty much a junk rating.
S&P stated to Businessweek that “po-
tentially prolonged application of foreign
exchange controls will restrict Iceland’s
monetary and fiscal flexibility and invest-
ment prospects.” Meaning that Iceland
will have to do some serious mind-
bending in order to generate any possible
foreign currency earnings.
Nothing new on that front, but let’s
have another look at the numbers as laid
out by Bloomsberg:
Iceland has to finance a 230 billion
ISK deficit in 2010. It is expected that 190
billion will be generated domestically by
selling government debt. Another 40 bil-
lion will be come out of the central bank’s
deposits. A 1 billion- euro ($1.3 billion)
bond matures, and should be paid up by
December 2011.
So, have the powers that be tightened
their belts and donned their thinking
caps? Well, you be the judge.
Even if stripping is now illegal, it ap-
pears Alþingi seems to think it is above
the law as far as the sale of whale meat is
concerned. On March 18, The Internation-
al Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) stated
that Iceland is illegally selling whale meat
to EU countries, including Denmark and
Latvia. Talking about spurious activities,
the Guardian, the Washington Times
and Salon Magazine all commented on
Wikileaks’ newest: namely the leak of US
diplomatic documents including the pro-
files of Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir and Össur
Skarphéðinsson. Jóhanna immediately
called for a visit from Sam Watson, US
charge d’affaires, presumably to give him
a right old spanking.
Wikileaks also claim they have been
the victim of harassment by the Pentagon
and their friends in Iceland. Wikileaks’
editor Julian Assange suggested that
he was being followed by the CIA from
Iceland to a recent conference in Sweden.
At the same time he pointed out that
the local police was holding one of his
Icelandic volunteers in custody. Surely
he’s not intimating that the Icelandic
police are colluding with the CIA? "We
have discovered half a dozen attempts at
covert surveillance in Reykjavik both by
native English speakers and Icelanders.
On the occasions where these individuals
were approached, they ran away,” noted
Assange.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave.
Bet you can’t wait for the next round of
Icesave negotiations.
Kreppa in the
International Eye:
March
Strip clubs, spies, crazy
money, and other
eruptions
Movies | Review
The Good Heart is Dagur Kári’s
third feature film after Dark Horse
(Voksne Mennesker, 2005) and Noi
The Albino (Nói Albínói, 2003). In
his films, the story usually revolves
around a few main characters, their
way of connecting to other people
and finding people who understand
them. A good example is Noi, where
a very particular boy in a small fish-
ing village creates a world of his own
as a reaction to how a few people un-
derstand him or give him a chance to
be himself.
Dagur Kári developed this theme
further in Dark Horse, which was
made with Danish actors and shot in
Danish. Now with his new film, an
English-language one featuring ac-
tors who have made a career in the
US, he takes a new approach to this
theme.
The two main characters are men
who each in their own way have come
to an existential end station. They are
as different as could be: Lucas, the
young homeless boy, and Jacques,
the old bad tempered bar owner.
They meet at the hospital after Lucas
tries to commit suicide and Jacques
is recovering from his fifth heart at-
tack. After Lucas leaves the hospital,
Jacques seeks him out and takes him
under his wing. He then starts to
teach him how to run his bar with
his philosophy of life.
One might say that the bar be-
comes the two main characters’ en-
tire existence, and those that enter
the bar are the few people who en-
ter their lives. Jacques only allows
customers he knows and trusts into
the bar. His heart has been hurt
and the bar is a place where he can
take total control of his environment
and where he feels safe. The biggest
threat to him is when the girl April
enters the bar. Lucas, being kind and
good hearted, can’t deny her when
she asks for help and has no other
place to go.
That is a good example of the
main characters’ huge contrast. Lu-
cas is young and early on his path in
life and wants to help others. Jacques
is old and close to the end of his path
and avoids helping others and trusts
no one. This is underlined when
Jacques says to Lucas that he is not
here to save people, but to destroy
them. One could also say that, in a
way, that is how the world works.
In The Good Heart, the char-
acters’ world takes place in small
spaces, a confined universe. This
gives them a feeling of comfort and
security, like with Nói in his cellar,
which also keeps him safe in the
tragic events at the end of the film.
Although Dagur Kári ś three films
have similarities they are quite dif-
ferent from each other and therefore
cannot be considered as a trilogy but
more of a process and development
of a young and interesting film di-
rector. The Good Heart is definitely
recommended for those who want to
experience the fruits of the constant-
ly growing Icelandic film scene.
Different Hearts Dagur Kári’s The Good Heart examined
EyJÓlFuR EyVindaRSon
did you KnoW? Our film critic Eyjólfur Eyvindarson also releases Icelandic hip hop under the name of Sesar A.
He is often referred to as "The Grandfather of Icelandic Hip Hop". Check him out and learn why.