Reykjavík Grapevine - feb. 2022, Blaðsíða 22

Catch Of The Day
Icelanders have fallen for Verbú$in hook, line
and sinker
Words: Josie Gaitens Video stills: RÚV
In the post-terrestrial TV world,
with myriad streaming options
(does anyone else feel like they
spend more time on the netflix
homepage with decision anxiety
than actually watching shows?),
it takes something special to cut
through to viewers. And sometimes
it’s the most unsuspecting stories
that end up generating the biggest
following. Co-writer and creator of
“Verbú"in”, Björn Hlynur Haralds-
son, knows that acutely:
“Who would have thought that we
would be so into a story about a
chemistry teacher who was dying of
cancer and wanted to make money
for his family, or a major nuclear
plant disaster in the Soviet Union?”
he points out. And yet the premise
of Verbú"in – in which Björn also
plays one of the main characters –
goes a step beyond both Breaking
Bad and Chernoybl into even more
unlikely territory. You see, it’s about
fishing quotas.
Fact and fiction
Except of course, it’s not. It’s really
about people, Iceland, small towns,
big dreams, greed, loyalty, morality
and how equally awful and amazing
the 80s were. But fishing quotas
form a backdrop to these very
human narratives, and according
to Björn, that’s for
good reason.
“I mean, it’s one
of the big stories of
this country,” Björn
says, seriously. “We
are always looking
for stories like this,
asking ourselves,
‘What should we be
saying?’”
But delving into
recent history, espe-
cial ly regarding
political decisions
that remain conten-
tious to this day, also presents chal-
lenges. Björn is quick to remind us
that Verbú"in (or Blackport, as it’s
called in English) is “not a docu-
mentary.” Nevertheless, some crit-
ics have called out what they see
as historical inaccuracies within
the show. Björn however, takes this
lightly:
“Icelanders, we’re really hung
up on facts; ‘this wasn’t here until
1984’ and so on. So we’re kind of
teasing people by being a bit off
sometimes. People have to put their
focus on the main story, what this
is all about, rather than ‘this car
isn’t right.’ But it’s a very Icelandic
thing,” he says, with a wry smile.
Acceptable in the 80s
One of the best things about the
show, in fact, is it’s representation
of the era. Regardless of whether
or not every song played fits the
timeline accurately, the overall
look, sound and sensation is spot
on. Björn explains that part of the
reason he felt so
connected to the
idea of the show
was because he
himself was a teen-
ager during the
80s, and he talks
passionately about
the experience of
r e c r e a t i n g t h i s
period for viewers.
“When we were
growing up, Reyk-
javík was more
like a small town
in the Soviet Union
than anything else.” he says. “It all
changed in the 80s. There was more
freedom in media, everything was
opening up to popular music and
television and radio. I don’t want
to call it a cultural revolution,but
suddenly the American president
was here. We could drink beer! And
politically as well, with the privati-
sation of companies... It was just a
really big decade.”
“We don’t want to
preach.”
Of course it’s not just the pop
culture of Iceland in the 80s that’s
on display in Verbú"in, but also the
politics. And this is an area where
Björn and his co-creators made
sure to tread carefully.
“We never set out to say, ‘We are
left-wing artists from the capital,
look at how horrible these people
are who own all the quota.’” Björn
explains. “Our intention is just to
shine a light and say, ‘this is how
this happened.’ We don’t want to
preach.”
And finally, for those who have
binged all of Verbú"in so far and
are eagerly hoping for more, there
is hope:
“We always said we had enough
ideas for two more seasons,” Björn
says candidly, before adding, with a
laugh, “We have a few more decades
to catch up with.”
Something fishy going on here
Aquaman, right?
Television
“We are always
looking for
stories like
this, asking
ourselves,
‘What should
we be
saying?’”