Let Me Fall (Lof mér að falla)

 

Director Baldvin Zophoníasson

Eyrún Björk Jakobsdóttir and Elín Sif Halldórsdóttir

Ólafur Arnalds

LET ME FALL (Lof mér að falla)                 B+                                                                 Iceland, Finland, Germany  (136 mi)  2018  ‘Scope  d:  Baldvin Zophoníasson

Grim and excruciating in every sense of the word, among the more punishing films about drug abuse gone wrong that anyone could ever experience, with layers of complexity that extend into decades, becoming a harrowing journey that exists beyond our imaginations, yet is a routine part of the lives of people we never see, damaged, addicted, and abused beyond repair, lingering in a drug-induced netherworld that is nothing but an endless nightmare that never stops.  A brutally honest depiction of drug addiction and its consequences, an emphatic approach to an urgent and seriously treated matter, the audience experiences the same feelings as the persons depicted, where what stands out is the emotional intensity and social relevance, becoming an emotional roller coaster with no comforting closure.  Never shying away from the harsh and traumatizing nature of addiction, this is first and foremost a performance-driven film, remaining ominously true to social and psychological realism, where the director discovered “a whole world in Iceland that I didn’t know about, and I decided to delve deeper into it.  I met the girls living on the streets and doing drugs.  They allowed us to enter their lives and follow them for one year.”  Drawing on actual stories and interviews with the families of addicts, including the diaries of Kristin Gerdur, a young woman who died from her drug use, offering an unpretentious glimpse into the lives of those who died before their lives truly began, this supposedly true story is told out of time, jumping back and forth between time periods, which is a lot to stomach, and some will find it over the edge, more than they can handle, yet it’s beautifully told, with poetic echoes amongst the ugliness of the in-your-face trauma.  Baldvin Zophoníasson is not a household name, using the letter Z for short as his last name, born in Iceland but studying in Denmark and Norway, working as a freelance editor, cameraman, and a producer for all the largest television networks in Iceland.  He started his film career making televison commercials as a freelancer for both Danish and Icelandic companies, making shorts and music videos for Icelandic bands while working at a local TV station, producing his first feature JITTERS (2010) about the coming-of-age confusion of being a teenager, also LIFE IN A FISHBOWL (2014), an ensemble drama which looks at the beginning of the international banking crisis through intersecting lives, while also making two documentaries before this film, one of which, ISLAND SONGS (2016), Ólafur Arnalds - Island Songs (full film) YouTube (1:09:51), is a tribute to musician Ólafur Arnalds traveling across Icelandic landscapes.  The allure of this film is discovering a very young Elín Hall, who was still using the name of Elín Sif Halldórsdóttir, gaining widespread recognition for her powerful portrayal of a troubled teenager.  The arc of her life goes from her sexual awakening and the great promise of youth to an endless saga of personal tragedies fueled by drug addiction and abuse, as typical teen malaise quickly gives way to a realist drama with an underlying gay theme.  A harrowing portrait of addiction that follows two young, beautiful, and intelligent best friends through the decades as precarious teenage years morph into perilous adulthoods, showing the destructive evolution of a same-sex relationship that is destroyed through drugs, as their carefree, reckless days of youth starkly contrasts with the devastating realities they face as adults, turning into literal shadows of their former selves.  While these characters might have been mere stereotypes in other hands, Zophoníasson and cowriter Birgir Örn Steinarsson give them nuance and depth, so just when viewers think they might have figured everything out about these young protagonists from their initial appearance, the script delves deeper, revealing extreme complications and contradictions.  

A harrowing and overwhelmingly emotional drama, revealing a little-explored and very dark side of a world few know about, this is a female-centric story that moves from innocence to bleakness, revealing the dark side of addiction, as Stella (Eyrún Björk Jakobsdóttir) and Magnea (Elín Sif Halldórsdóttir) are teenage best friends forever, even getting a tattoo that expresses their bond, where they have a very special connection which bypasses everyone else, as little else matters except the time they spend together getting high.  Seemingly inseparable, Stella and her boyfriend Toni (Sigurbjartur Atlason) are already injecting drugs, but Magnea is the focus of the story, a brilliant student and athlete, coming from a divorced family, living with her father (Þorsteinn Bachmann) and stepmother, seen as a relatively stable home, yet the marriage was apparently rocked by alcoholism, with her father telling his teenage daughter, “OK, I made mistakes.  It doesn’t mean you have to.”  Therein lies the central theme, as Magnea flouts her independence at every step in her pursuit of freedom over anything resembling common sense, leaving behind her conventional middle class environment, thoroughly fascinated by Stella’s wild side and unconventional personality, as a mutual sexual attraction and love between the two girls intensifies, starting out running shakedown schemes for money to buy drugs, a fast-track to disaster leading to skipping classes at school and going to wild parties.  While they seem young and adorable at first, wanting to be the cool kids, but so were the heroin-addicted jazz musicians in Shirley Clarke’s THE CONNECTION (1961), the small-time hustlers in Jerry Schatzberg’s THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK (1971), the dismally gloomy punk rocker/groupie romance depicted in Alex Cox’s SID & NANCY (1986), or the harrowing, nearly unwatchable final sequence in Darren Aronofsky’s REQUIEM FOR A DREAM (2000).  What these films have in common is their graphic depiction of drug use, which includes the devastating consequences, yet here the focus isn’t so much on drug abuse, but is more about the abuse addicts experience while doing drugs.  A quietly forceful and sorrowful film couples the two halves of their life in a single, non-linear approach, sort of a before and after, allowing viewers a more complete picture of the utter destruction from drug addiction, while at the same time creating an unusually accurate depiction of adolescence, becoming so much more that just another gritty, coming-of-age social drama.  Beautifully shot by Jóhann Máni Jóhannsson, as the washed-out visuals capture a claustrophobic, hopeless atmosphere that perfectly mimics the comedown of substance abuse, with a prevalent mix of naturalism and extreme close-ups that is reminiscent of John Cassavetes in Faces (1968), where the performances by the two young stars with no prior acting experience are astonishing, played by a different set of actors in their later years, where their adult lives have literally been undermined by the decisions they made as teenagers.  The film sees Stella and Magnea through their first experiences with drugs, through years of addiction and times of relief, all the way to the bitter end, where it’s a haunting transfiguration that leads to a very powerful conclusion of ruination and despair, where lives that were once so promising end up in self-inflicted tragedy, yet most of all it’s a complex character study that is never less than eye-opening.  Among the more successful films on the tiny Icelandic market, the highest grossing film in 2018, the filmmaker has created a social and psychologically realist work, where there is no reason for viewers to believe that what they have just seen onscreen will not also be present in the society they return to when they leave the theater. 

The writers wanted to explore the dark side of teenage girls who get drawn into drugs and soon go missing, something unprecedented in Icelandic society, called “the Lost Girls,” as their faces usually appear on the front pages of newspapers, something that happens in this film as well, as Magnea simply disappears for days on end without a word, producing signs of desperation from her parents.  As teenagers, Magnea’s well-meaning parents try to get a handle on what their daughter is going through, offering her help and support, which she always rejects, finding the lure of the needle an irresistable part of the rest of her life, where she just never gets on track, turning into a physical and emotional wreck, undone at each and every step of the way from incredibly poor choices that lead to disastrous delf-destruction, yet throughout her agonizing ordeal, her parents remain loving and supportive.  Part of what makes this version so different from the rest is the humanizing portrayal of the father, who remains stumped, never finding answers, yet still doesn’t give up, despite being lied to repeatedly by his daughter, providing some of the more tender moments in the entire film.  Stella’s life would also continue to grow more chaotic, plunging into the world of addiction, but later on she appears to have settled down, finding a job and a good home together with her partner, somehow getting her life together, clean and sober, retaining some semblance of a normal life, becoming the poster child for recovering addicts, but something is always missing, obsessed by that connection to Magnea, who may be her one and only love, something she can never replace.  Raw, unflinching, and tragically real, offering a compelling and often shocking look into the slow downward spiral of its characters, moving back and forth between the past and present, while building towards heartbreaking moments of betrayal that would change the outcome of these characters’ lives forever.  The roadways they experience, especially Magnea, are emotionally crushing, where the cranked-up abuse is unsettling, a side of life rarely depicted as brutally punishing as it is here, while at the same time delving into the interiority of the characters, who become very recognizable after a while.  Avoiding the typical clichés that surround drug dependency in favor of a more delicately crafted, time-shifting character study, the intense power of the early segments leads viewers to recognize and understand what these women are going through, which makes the later scenes that much more difficult, as these are no longer strangers, but women we know and recognize on the verge of mental breakdowns, falling victim to their own insatiable appetites, where there is profound depth in the epic way their lives are presented, making us appreciate the horrors of this world that much more.  Among the better choices made by this director are the musical selections, perhaps fueled by Icelandic’s ambient megastar musician/composer Ólafur Arnalds, whose music is highly cinematic, atmospheric, and inspired by the quiet beauty of Icelandic landscapes, including one of his own tracks, Ólafur Arnalds - Dalur ft. Brasstríó Mosfellsdals YouTube (4:01), a music video directed by none other than Baldvin Z, but his underlying electronic music playing beneath the unleashed power of raw feelings onscreen is perfectly in sync.  But there are a few other notable selections as well, Kælan Mikla - Kalt YouTube (4:00), Toymachine - Toy Machine 2020 (Official music video) YouTube (4:56), Toymachine - Be Like Me [2000] (Official Music Video) YouTube (3:30), and aYia - RUINS (audio) YouTube (5:04), which masterfully fit the frenetic youth culture mode before the moodiness kicks in from the introspective, dark lyricism from California-born, Reykjavík-based Zöe’s evocative cover of the Nick Cave song ZÖE - AIN'T GONNA RAIN ANYMORE (OFFICIAL VIDEO) YouTube (4:20), while also performing the title track ZÖE - LET ME FALL (OFFICIAL VIDEO) YouTube (4:10), which plays over the end credits.