Reykjavík Grapevine - 24.05.2019, Page 15

Make Us
LaUgh,
CLown
15 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 08— 2019
– Ari Eld
járn’s lif
e of laug
hter –
Words: Rex Beckett Photos: Hörður Sveinsson
It is impossible not to laugh while talk-
ing to Ari Eldjárn. The ebullient and
vivacious comedian constantly breaks
into dead-on impersonations, reen-
acts comedy sketches, and enthusiasti-
cally quotes his friends to a point that
you feel you are part of the story. This
highly charismatic and generous atti-
tude is the comedian’s trademark. He
has been doing stand-up, writing for
television and touring the world for the
past decade, and is now known as one
of Iceland’s most established working
comics.
“I just realised a few days ago that
it’s been ten years now,” Ari says, some-
what bewildered. “It hasn’t felt like ten
years at all. It’s felt like a brief period of
being very active, but it’s actually been a
decade. In my mind I’m still just brand
new.”
Despite this feeling, Ari is far from
being fresh out of the gate. He’s been a
writer four times for Áramótaskaup—
Icelandic national TV's annual New
Year’s Eve comedy revue—has written
three television series, and performed
at numerous festivals worldwide, all
the while being a hard-working local
comedian, performing widely, and
hosting his own annual stand-up revue,
styled after the aforementioned televi-
sion program. For the past two years,
Ari has been performing his one-man
comedy hour, “Pardon My Icelandic,”
around the globe and he is now in prep-
aration mode for his second run at the
Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
West-end boy
Born in 1981 and raised in Reykjavík’s
Vesturbær neighbourhood, Ari came
from a prominent family in Iceland.
His grandfather, Kristján, was the third
president of Iceland, and his father,
Þórarinn, is a highly respected writer
well known for his humorous style. The
fourth-born of five brothers (two now
deceased), Ari’s older siblings played a
huge role in developing his humour.
“I definitely have younger sibling
syndrome,” he says. “My oldest brother
was nine years older than me. He was
really funny, and his friends were
super funny, and I really looked up to
them. Úlfur, my middle brother, is five
years older. I hung around him and his
friends a lot. I really liked their sense of
humour and I really tried to make them
laugh. I remember being really flattered
every time they thought I said some-
thing funny.”
Class clown
Comedy figured heavily in the house-
hold, with his relatives gathering to
watch the Áramótaskaup broadcast
every year and critiquing it together.
At ten years old, Ari and his cousin
broke out the handheld camera and
made their own ten-minute version of
the show. “We forced people to watch
it before the programme and they were
always really nice like, ‘Oh, yeah, it’s
better than the real one,’” he laughs.
“Not being honest. I think that’s a very
good part of building someone’s confi-
dence. Ah, my poor relatives.”
Ari was an anxious and under-
performing high school student at
Menntaskólinn í Reykjavík, avoiding
homework and being too cool for school
while secretly praying not to get kicked
out. He also exhibited typical class-
clown behaviour.
“Not the funniest, definitely, but I
did like my share of attention when I
got it,” he says. “I liked the idea of being
clever. Not that I was clever, but I aimed
to be.” He managed to graduate on
time, despite his risky academic perfor-
mance, and went into working odd jobs
for the next few years.