Reykjavík Grapevine - 13.04.2012, Blaðsíða 32

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

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