Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.07.2013, Side 33

Nói Albínói is playing at Bíó Paradís on Sundays at 22:00,
Thursdays at 20:00 and Fridays at 18:00.
Life In A Northern Town:
Dagur Kári’s ‘Nói Albínói’
It lingers in the air around every
conversation in the film, paralysing
every relationship Nói has and bring-
ing every confrontation he has to a
stalemate. It confines us and crushes
us with its unseen weight, from the
opening shot of the nameless town
with the impossibly forlorn mountain
looming over it to the apocalyptic
ending. There is no escape.
Vicious cycles
‘Nói Albínói’ was originally released
in 2003 to positive reviews, and went
on to win a slew of prizes and awards,
both at home and abroad. It’s one of
those rare treats that actually lives up
to the hype, drawing us inexorably
into a world completely of its own,
and yet one that is instantly recog-
nisable to those who know it: that of
life in a small Icelandic town. Howev-
er, unlike the multitude of failed
attempts made at this depiction, it is
not an exaggerated caricature filled
with simplified messages and heavy-
handed moralising.
It’s a slightly more subtle breed
of film. While certainly guilty of the
rampant melodrama often found
in most films about talented young
people trying to escape their rural
homes, it takes care to deliver it in
quiet simplicity rather than forcing
the hopelessness of Nói’s life upon
us. The weight of his confinement
escalates slowly as the film progress-
es, with his avenues of escape peter-
ing out with whimpers rather than
bangs. An allegorical scene arrives
halfway through the film where Nói
plays with a fly, letting it crawl up
one of his arms only to place it on
his opposite hand, with the process
repeated ad nauseam, hypnotic and
beautifully shot. Only by going the
same route multiple times can the fly
learn that it’s going nowhere; there
is nothing blocking its way, but yet it
cannot leave.
Compounding the claustropho-
bia is a certain vacuousness to the
plot and dialogue of the film, with
repeated phrases and events giving
the first two acts of the film a futile,
cyclical feel. Whether the simplistic
conversations are intentional or not
is unclear (Dagur Kári’s other two
features to date have yet to prove
him as a screenwriter), but the effect
is the same, with the limited vocabu-
lary making us as sick of the sound of
the characters’ voices as Nói is by the
time the third act closes in.
The child is father
to the man
Tómas Lemarquis is reliable and
effective in the title role, carefully
balancing awkward teenage shuffles
and averted eyes with intelligence
and cynicism. Every frustrated
attempt of Nói’s to escape is infused
with an earnest, childlike hope, and
it is to Lemarquis’s credit that he can
show us multiple sides of Nói without
ever seeming inconsistent.
The ever-dependable Þröstur Leó
Gunnarsson similarly shines as Nói’s
hopeless burnout of a father, Kiddi.
His pathetic attempts at intimacy with
his son are always accompanied by
the same desperation we see in Nói’s
eyes; meanwhile, when attempting
to seduce the haughty gas station
attendant Íris by teaching her how
to smoke cigarettes, Nói effortlessly
becomes his father, all charm and
smiles. Þröstur and Lemarquis not
only give stand-out performances
individually, but are genuinely believ-
able as father and son.
No questions, no answers
At no point does ‘Nói Albínói’ seem
preachy or didactic, nor does it offer
any kind of solution. Nói shoots
icicles off a cliff edge with a shotgun,
and the futility is as deafening as the
buckshot. “Hang yourself or don’t
hang yourself, you’ll regret it either
way,” Íris’s father quotes to Nói from
Kierkegaard very early in the film, and
it neatly presages the awful point-
lessness of existence in the town.
However, the simple beauty of
‘Nói Albínói’ lies in how it resists
every temptation to become some
misguided statement on life in rural
Iceland, or reminding us of the
importance of family or some such
nonsense. It is not about teaching us
any kind of lesson. It’s not showing us
how we can help, or how flawed our
thinking is about this thing or that.
The town is simply a backdrop
for Nói’s story, kicking and flailing
against the world as the emptiness
blankets everything. The film is, at
heart, a character study, with every
forbidding landscape and lonely
house underscoring Nói’s silently
desperate brooding. As character
studies go, it’s about as bleak as they
get, but sometimes bleakness is just
what the doctor ordered.
- Sindri Eldon
33
Claustrophobia. It’s everywhere in ‘Nói Albínói.’ It’s in the flailing arms of
the titular character tossing rocks into the ocean, wishing he could throw
himself away. It’s in the frustrated desperation of his father, suffocating Nói
with his misguided attempts to help him. It’s in the dull thuds of Nói’s feet
and fists, banging on the doors of every house and institution in his sub-
arctic prison of a hometown as its inhabitants give up on him and fail him,
one by one.
Hafnarhús
Tryggvagata 17,
101 Rvk.
Open 10-17
Thursdays 10-20
Kjarvalsstaðir
Flókagata, 105 Rvk.
Open 10-17
Ásmundarsafn
Sigtún, 105 Rvk.
May-Sept.:
Open 10-17
Okt.-Apr.:
Open 13-17
One Ticket - Three Museums
Open Daily
Guided tour in English available every Friday at
11am. in June, July and August at Kjarvalsstaðir
www.artmuseum.is
Tel: (354) 590 1200
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Hverfisgata 82,
Downtown Reykjavík,
Tel: (+354)583-2222
Opening hours:
Mon. - Fri. 10–19
Sat. & Sun. 11–17
We sell & rent outdoor equipment
Take a hike, we’ll equip you!
See what we offer at www.outfitters.is
Reykjavík · Engjateigur 19 and Laugavegur 20b · Hafnarfjörður · Strandgata 34 · www.glo.is
This is Solla Eiriksdottir, the winner
of Best Gourmet Raw Chef and Best
Simple Raw Chef in the 2011 and
2012 “Best of Raw” Awards. Come and try out one
of her great dishes at her restaurant Gló.
FLIM ICELANDSindri Eldon Watches Movies And Writes About Them