Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.04.2012, Blaðsíða 32

VALUR GUNNARSSON
REBECCA LOUDER
pROMOTIONAL STILLS
32
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 4 — 2012 See www.bioparadis.is for a schedule.
Bíó Paradís is a welcome oasis in that
barren wasteland of American teen-
flicks that is the Icelandic cinema
scene. We had long been hoping for an
arthouse cinema in this country. That
we got one as good as Bíó Paradís is
something of an accident. Instead of
taking over a basement somewhere
to show indie and European films in,
the aptly named Cinema Paradise was
opened in the autumn of 2010 in the
locale of the then defunct Regnboginn
multiplex theatre. So, instead of the
basement, we get four whole state of
the art screening rooms for our viewing
pleasure.
As well as being able to look for-
ward to the Finnish Nazi Alien comedy
‘Iron Sky,’ and Shakespeare’s ‘Coriola-
nus,’ which will both be screening next
month, Paradís is putting on a bunch of
exciting film festivals. Last month, we
got both a German and a Polish one,
and this month, we will have the first
Indian film festival held in Iceland.
Fans of melodramatic plots and OTT
dancing scenes will be able to indulge
in their habit guilt-free, as the festival is
co-hosted by the Friends of India Asso-
ciation and proceeds will go to orphans
on the sub-continent. But the festival
should also be worthwhile in purely
cinematic terms, with offerings such as
‘Dhoom 2,’ a spoof on Hollywood action
films set in Brazil; ‘The Robot,’ which
is the most expensive science fiction
film made in Asia so far; and perhaps
the jewel in the crown, ‘The Necklace,’
about illicit love during the end of Brit-
ish dominance.
Icelandic cinema is also represent-
ed in Bíó Paradis. They are showing
the hugely popular crime flick ‘Black’s
Game’ with English subtitles; ‘Baráttan
um landið,’ the documentary about the
current craze to destroy the highlands;
and ‘Amma lo-fi,’ the true story of a
grandmother who started composing
music in her 70’s.
Film | Cinema
Film | Review
They offer everything from Nazi
aliens to rocking grandmothers
Go To Bíó paradís
As far as old clichés go, ‘better late
than never’ is one of the easiest
to doubt. Sigríður Níelsdóttir may
have spent much of her life putting
off what she wanted to do, but in
the later years of her life she did in-
deed put the skepticism to bed and
went for it.
Sigríður is the subject of ‘Grandma
Lo-Fi’, a new documentary by first-time
filmmakers Kristín Björk Kristjánsdóttir
(also known as revered electronic mu-
sician Kira Kira), Orri Jónsson (of the
band Slowblow) and Ingibjörg Birgis-
dóttir (of Seabear). Over the course of
seven years, the directors shot Sigríður
in the process of making music in her
home, which she only began doing at
age 70. They watch in fly-on-the-wall
style as she records on her electric
organ (which she affectionately nick-
named ‘the entertainer’), makes DIY
instruments out of kitchen items like
an egg-slicer and a hand blender, and
the physical process of putting each of
her CDs together by hand. When one
considers that she self-produced 59 al-
bums before passing away last year, it’s
quite a humbling proposition.
The film itself is a work of lo-fi
beauty. Mostly shot on Super-8 film,
it is an intentional stylistic tool that
melds perfectly with their featured
subject and her music, never seeming
cloying or desperate. Added to it are
montages of cut-out art, photography
and naïve animation that complement
the collage work that Sigríður shifted
to as her primary art form after she felt
satisfied with music. Within several of
these montages are performances or
narrations by local artists who she in-
spired, including Mugison, Sin Fang,
Kría Brekkan and Hildur Guðnadót-
tir. Indeed, her infectiously catchy and
well-crafted songs match her tenacity
in pursuing her goals.
However, her life was not always
so peachy. In the movie, we are given
a glimpse of her life and upbringing,
which had its fair share of hard times.
In one animated sequence, she re-
counts how she disobeyed her father
when she married her husband: “No
daughter of mine will marry a sailor!”
Her husband subsequently drowned
in a shipwreck, never to be found.
She describes having many regrets
and spending much of her life trying
to make up for lost time and chances.
Even in its cutesy approach, the visual
aspect appropriately conveys the tone
of Sigríður’s entire story without a trace
of saccharine, both in the happier and
sadder times. A strong element of Sig-
ríður’s later life resided in her Christian
faith, from which she drew much of her
positivity.
At her core, Sigríður can be de-
scribed as a true outsider artist. She
was rather unaware of the impact on
local music she had until she was ap-
proached by the filmmakers to play a
show, which she declined, but a sort
of super-group band performed her
songs instead. She made her music as
a form of spiritual catharsis with no in-
tention of distribution or even a sense
of artistic purpose behind it. Everything
she did, she did to survive.
You’re Just Too Krútt To Be True
Grandma Lo-Fi is a twee-laced documentary