When the Light Breaks (Ljósbrot)

 

Writer/director Runár Runársson

Runársson with actress Elín Hall

cinematographer Sophia Olsson

 

 

WHEN THE LIGHT BREAKS (Ljósbrot)                            B                                             Iceland  Netherlands  Croatia  France  (82 mi)  2024  d: Runár Runársson 

Things that appear black or white at first glance often have another side.  Even if something seems terrible at first glance, something beautiful can come out of it, if you take a closer look.  —Writer/director Runár Runársson

A no frills, low-key movie best experienced without knowing a thing about it ahead of time, taking place over a single day, between two remarkably filmed sunsets, where the Icelandic title Ljósbrot is that moment when the light breaks through in the morning.  At least initially this feels like an early Dardennes Brother’s movie, employing a very naturalistic style with the camera fixed on the back of the necks, but it quickly evolves into new territory, coming from a filmmaker whose works are all intensely personal.  A study of guilt, regret, and grief, both collectively and individually, yet anchored in everyday life, discovering it’s not just sadness, but a wide range of shifting emotions that stand out, a mix of beauty and sorrow, where humor and love may be found even in our darkest moments, where this is a ruminative film that creeps up on you, minimalist in form and style, carefully carving out distinct personalities, yet the centerpiece of the film revolves around a single character, Una (Elín Hall, short for Elín Sif Halldórsdóttir, an acclaimed Icelandic singer, songwriter, and actress, maker of four No. 1 singles, like her personalized cover of a David Bowie song, Elín Hall - As The World Falls Down (Official Video) YouTube, 4:33), an art student who is initially seen in the arms of Diddi (Baldur Einarsson), a fellow art student that we learn are in a band together, but we never see or hear them play.  Their relationship is kept secret, as he already has a smalltown girlfriend, Klara (Katla Njálsdóttir, who directs that music video and a collaborates on a music project together forming a pop duo called Mammaðin, mammaðín (@mammadin_), who is known to all the members of the band, so they meet in private, sitting on the rocks by the coast in a gorgeous sunset sequence, Clip from When The Light Breaks YouTube (1:02), discussing where they want to travel together, perhaps the Faroe Islands or Japan, but he leaves early the next morning, presumably to break up with Klara, informing her, “When I get back tomorrow night, we won’t have to hide anything anymore.”  But that moment never comes, as something unsettling occurs, which appears like a nightmarish dream sequence, especially the way the scene is introduced, where sleep gives way to a beautifully extended sequence of flickering lights passing above in the night sky, kind of like the yellow highway lines illuminated by car headlights in David Lynch’s LOST HIGHWAY (1997), but what gives it formidable artistic power is the hauntingly abstract nature of the images, unidentified at first until the camera pulls back, allowing us to see a darkened tunnel roadway with the lights passing overhead, accompanied by a starkly unique, solemnly ethereal piece of ancient music written by an Icelandic composer who grew up on the same street as the filmmaker and died unexpectedly at a relatively young age, Jóhann Jóhannsson - Odi et amo YouTube (3:12), part of a larger work based on what might be the most famous poem in Latin literature, Catullus 85 (I Hate and I Love) by the Roman poet Gaius Valerius Catullus.  That extraordinary introduction happens before the opening credits, leading to the normal routine of a school day in Reykjavík before the news reports the biggest tunnel disaster in Icelandic history, as a fireball consumes the inside of a tunnel, where nearly everyone inside perishes.  No names are initially announced, so we see students crowding around TV’s trying to get the latest updates, with many on their phones reaching out to friends and family members.  When Diddi doesn’t answer his phone, some of the other students get concerned, especially Gunni (Mikael Kaaber), Diddi’s brother who is completely distraught, with Una seen comforting him, reminding him nothing is known yet, so don’t expect the worst.       

Premiering in Un Certain Regard at Cannes, from the maker of Volcano (Eldfjall) (2011) and SPARROWS (2015), which are about broken family relationships, and ECHO (2019), composed of 56 small vignettes, revealing how well he works in a small format, it was easy to get this film mixed up with Payal Kapadia’s 2024 Top Ten List #3 All We Imagine as Light (Prabhayay Ninachathellam), as both titles sound similar and were playing on the same festival circuit at the exact same time, with actress Elín Hall winning a Silver Hugo as Best Actress at the 2024 Chicago Film Festival.  Set against the backdrop of Iceland’s ethereal landscapes, working on 16mm with cinematographer Sophia Olsson, who the director has worked with on all his films since they met at the National Film School of Denmark, what unfolds is a deeply introspective study of human intimacy, a journey through mourning, memory, and the unspoken connections between those left behind, shining a light on a new wave of Scandinavian cinema that examines the intenseness of being human.  While the chaos at the school was confusing enough, it is nothing like the chaos they encounter when a group of friends gather at a Red Cross crisis center (actually the architecturally designed Harpa (concert hall) with its unique glass façade), which is positively mayhem, a national tragedy of epic proportions, with Una learning soon enough that Diddi has died, eyeing her friends from a distance, where it’s clear they are processing his death, leaving everyone in a state of disbelief and powerlessness.  As the day unfolds, Una drifts between friends, family, and solitude, uneasy in any company, and unhappy alone, with the actress capable of conveying a wide range of emotions with barely perceptible changes of expression, using little to no dialogue, having a unique ability to subtly show what her character is going through, mostly dealing with hidden feelings while tasked with pent-up emotions.  What follows resembles the activities of a wake, where there is genuine warmth, humor, solidarity, and the comfort of a group, with the members of the band assembling with Una and Klara, awkwardly thrown together by their friends’ collective mourning, still associating Klara as Diddi’s girlfriend, which only disturbs Una even more, as only she and Gunni knew the true nature of their more recently developing relationship.  As they drink Stoli (Stolichnaya vodka) shots in a bar, Diddi’s favorite drink of choice, they hug and comfort one another, yet all are obviously miserable, with Una only feeling more distanced due to her carefully kept secret, like some kind of outcast, finding it hard not to be resentful towards Klara, who is on the receiving end of shared emotional support as Diddi’s openly acknowledged girlfriend, leaving her having to deal with her own personal crisis alone on a roller coaster of existential feelings.  Gunni feels especially close to her for this reason, but it still stings, leaving her ever more exasperated and alone, having to keep everything to herself, which just gnaws at her, as Diddi was one of the few people who accepted her as she was.  Klara claims she was initially jealous of Una being the only girl in Diddi’s band, but he informed her she had nothing to worry about as she’s a dyke.  The androgynous-looking Una with her short-cropped hair and boyish clothes informs her she’s not a lesbian, but pansexual, more openly attracted to all genders.  Still, there’s a chilliness in the air between them, with Una simply avoiding her as best she can, but they’re hanging out with the same group of friends, which makes that difficult.  In a small country like Iceland, with barely 400,000 inhabitants (only 5 were in Diddi’s high school class), everyone knows everyone, so concealing a relationship is no easy matter.   

With the film exploring a complex mixture of shock, jealousy, and anger, secrets can isolate people, yet grief can ultimately reconnect them, as there’s something about the healing effect of shared suffering.  Befitting of a national tragedy, with Icelandic flags hanging at half-mast, a service is held at Hallgrímskirkja, Iceland's largest church, a modernist architectural marvel designed by State architect Guðjón Samúelsson ("Iceland's extraordinary, futuristic churches"), where the sweeping shots of modern, concrete and glass architecture in Reykjavík contrasts sharply with the natural element of the vast, panoramic Icelandic landscapes, with the group hanging outside afterwards discussing the performance art classes held at school, with Una recounting how Diddi kept drinking one shot of Stoli after another until he finally passed out, making a weird comment on a variety of issues, from substance abuse and personal degradation to youthful resiliency, as he somehow managed to survive the ordeal.  Klara finds that a waste of time, disparaging that kind of performance art, but Una is able to show her how art often leads to undiscovered perspectives, actually broadening one’s outlook.  It is curious that we never hear the music the band plays, but we do see them let loose at an impromptu party, drinking and dancing furiously to the heavy metal music of Hatari’s HATARI – HATRIÐ MUN SIGRA YouTube (3:00), which translates to “Hate will prevail,” a song that won Söngvakeppnin 2019, a Eurovision song contest.  It’s an interesting aside into youth culture, finding a ferociously downbeat subject matter to match their own manic yet morose energy.  Like Christophe Honoré’s first feature, Seventeen Times Cécile Cassard (Dix-sept fois Cécile Cassard) (2002), especially the use of heavy metal rock to express a continuously disorienting mood, this is a delicately restrained film about the stages of grief and how we handle and go through it in different ways, yet it leads to the emotional catharsis that unites us all in our mourning, where nothing is remotely the same afterwards.  As the party ends, Una and Klara, thrown together under the most unfathomable circumstances, are seen standing on either side of a glass window, with their co-mingling, double reflections merging in a Persona-like image, with Una suddenly realizing Klara may reflect another undiscovered side of Diddi.  The sparse script never allows moments of melodrama or emotional excess, and is mostly understated throughout, though there are plenty of hugs and tears, but Una, in particular, plays it pretty close to the vest, cool, but never emotionally aloof, always present in the moment, allowing her face to reveal her combustible inner turmoil.  At such young ages, they are still searching for themselves, finally taking comfort in finding someone else who knows what they’re going through, where words feel unnecessary, as they intrinsically understand this shared moment of grief, mirrored by a moment when the two women brush their teeth side by side in Diddi’s bathroom, with Una at first reaching for a familiar toothbrush, but she stops herself, using her finger instead, joined by Klara who does the exact same thing, while the knowledge that Una has been in this exact same spot before lingers in the air.  Their unexpected closeness is part of the grieving process, just needing someone near to help drive away the engulfing pain, as the Odi et amo music is heard again as light on the water is reflected in another abstract shot that comes to define the fragility of the human spirit.  As the two women wander off into a familiar landscape, nature takes its course, both swallowed up by the colors of another gorgeous sunset, clinging together in the sheer beauty of the moment, as orange hues gently hover over a tranquil sea, allowing the fleeting beauty of nature to speak the unspeakable in its profound silences, literally bathing them in the haunting grace of the moment.    

Good One

 

Writer/director India Donaldson

actress Lily Collias

Donaldson with Lily Collias

The director on the set

GOOD ONE               B                                                                                                               USA  (89 mi)  2024  ‘Scope  d: India Donaldson

Premiering at Sundance in 2024, yet also widely circulating on the festival circuit, where it played in more than thirty different film festivals, including Director’s Fortnight at the Cannes Film Festival, yet very little has been heard about this film, flying completely under the radar, where this is about as minimalist a film as you could possible create, seemingly out of nothing, with no narrative to speak of, a portrait in miniature of passing into adulthood, yet it’s all bathed in the pristine naturalism of a 3-day backpacking trek through the national forest of the Catskills in upstate New York.  While it bears a resemblance to Kelly Reichardt’s early film Old Joy (2006), which may be the cinematic template for this film, it lacks the sly homoeroticism and 60’s counterculture vibe of that film, which was shot in the rugged Oregon Cascade mountains of the Pacific northwest, instead approaching the subject through the lens of a generational divide.  It may also recall the outsider father/daughter dynamic living off the grid deep in the woods from Debra Granik’s remarkable 2018 Top Ten List #5 Leave No Trace.  Pared down to its bare bones, there’s little to no story, as not much happens, where this is about as low-key as you can get, more of a character study with nuance that is deceptively simple, where what lies beneath the surface is everything.  The daughter of New Zealand filmmaker Roger Donaldson (one of the many producers), having grown up in the business, this is the director’s debut feature, written with an eye on minute details, where if you blink you’ll miss what’s happening here, as it’s about as subtle a film as you’ll ever see, with a few interesting 70’s and 80’s choices of alternative music, like Kay Gardner - Touching Souls YouTube (5:45), Kevyn Dymond - Endless Present [US] Psych Folk (1984) YouTube (3:16), or a Nico and the Velvet Underground sounding Moonlove - All Your Mysteries YouTube (2:45).  Lily Collias in her first leading role is 17-year old Sam, a girl from Brooklyn in a relationship with another girl, mostly unseen except through text messages, just weeks away from heading off to college, becoming the central figure of the film as she embarks on a weekend excursion with two divorced dads, her own, Chris, James Le Gros from Kelly Reichardt’s Certain Women (2016), and his longtime best friend Matt, Danny McCarthy from the Coen brother’s The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018).  The total opposite of a Hollywood depiction, this trimmed down, offbeat approach is much more authentic, capturing the human experience in such a raw and visceral way, where nothing feels overly forced, accentuating what’s left unspoken, with a continual back and forth between these three characters, yet right from the outset there is turbulence, as Matt’s teenage son Dylan was also supposed to go, but abruptly refuses at the last minute, which is seen as part of the collateral damage from the recent divorce, still angry at his dad, blaming him for their separation.  Every child has that moment when they realize their own parents are flawed.  And while there is plenty of muttering under his breath, Matt is resigned to go without him, but it’s an inauspicious sign undermining whatever good intentions were originally planned.  Essentially a coming-of-age, father-daughter movie, but not a conventional one, with Matt serving as a comic relief sidekick and the butt of all jokes, continually making cocky and potentially offensive statements, as the filmmaker plays around with audience expectations and how easy it is to ignore the warning signs, where you never know what lies ahead as they head into the woods.    

Another film that was developed during the pandemic, allowing Donaldson an opportunity to spend time building her fictionalized characters, inspired by how an isolated environment could draw out family dynamics, often in funny and unexpected ways, creating something that was intimate and emotionally contained.  Ostensibly a buddy movie between two bickering old friends whose competing egos are a handful, continually airing long-held grievances, both seemingly suffering from a midlife crisis, chirping at one another endlessly, much of it dealing with their own personal regrets, with an overcontrolling Chris coming across as a self-absorbed know-it-all, who left Sam’s mother for a younger woman (she cheated first is his rationale), while the more anxiously insecure Matt wallows in his combustible feelings, with Sam silently sitting in the middle, occasionally acting as the arbitrar, continually trying to smooth things over.  Everything happens very slowly, as this film is painstakingly patient, allowing the words to sit with viewers and resonate, where it’s never anything profound, but more a reflection of their wounded state of mind, where both men come across as damaged goods with frazzled nerves, who tend to get tipsy, bringing along a flask, where they seem to be their own worst enemies, all but ignoring Sam, who may as well be invisible.  After spending the night in a one-roomed motel with two beds, and Sam sleeping on the floor, where the guys spend most of the evening in the bar, they get up early the next day, with Chris finding fault with everything Matt decides to pack, or overpack, as he’s brought any number of useless items, perhaps a metaphor for that overcluttered brain of his.  Yet once on the trail, the verdant scenery couldn’t be more calming and peaceful, enraptured by the sound of babbling brooks, where there’s a reason people visit these places, as it’s like a religious experience cleansing the soul.  Dad always takes the lead, like a military reconnaissance mission, with Sam a short distance behind, while Matt always brings up the rear.  It’s not your typical adventure, with a designated place in mind, instead it simply allows the wind and forest sounds to seep into their consciousness, changing up the landscape, altering the routines, discovering the beauty of the great outdoors.  Of course, there are other things that stand out, like not disturbing the environment, or attracting bears, so it’s important to bury waste products and keep all food covered, things Sam has already learned and does automatically, as respecting the environment they are in is an essential aspect of the journey, maintaining a balance at all times.  Who knew that the greatest risk of all was her own femininity?  They appear to be well-educated campers, so when they set up camp for the night, it comes as a surprise when three other male hikers stop to camp right next to them, taking advantage of the shared company.  This may not be what everyone desires, as who likes to feel crowded in the open terrain of the wilderness, but no one makes a fuss.  However, any male threat they pose to Sam, who suddenly finds herself overwhelmed and completely ignored by a sea of masculinity, is immediately overlooked in the interest of getting along and having a good time. 

While the lush beauty and contemplative atmosphere are the real highlight, what stands out is that Sam, who can be sullen at times, is wise beyond her years, seemingly acting more adult than the adults, where she actually says the least, yet her character stands out the most, assuredly connecting with her inner self, confidently saying so much largely through facial expressions, as she does not miss much, ultimately becoming the heart of the movie.  Being female and gay, her life is radically different from these two adult men whose lives are constantly in turmoil, thinking only of themselves, having little time for her, which this film makes very apparent.  Matt is something of an unfiltered chatterbox, but his emotions are raw, out there and exposed, coming up with the weirdest things to say, some of which is easily ignored, while other things can stick with you.  Chris is more tightly wound and reserved, used to managing his emotions and keeping them in check, yet it’s clear he loves and respects his daughter, but his measured tone can feel awkwardly stiff, like he’s playing a role, hiding what he really feels deep inside.  Both men have been deeply wounded by marriage and divorce, something that tore a hole in them, with frustrations literally seeping out of them, where this trip is an attempt to heal those open wounds.  There’s a delicate progression to the film, as the characters come to life, personalities are revealed, with viewers rewarded by glorious waterfalls and some magnificent vistas overlooking a glistening blue lake down below.  Their habits become known to us, with Sam being the responsible “good one,” actually preparing the meals, while also seen cleaning the cooking utensils by rubbing dirt in the bowls, as water is a precious commodity, used sparingly.  There is no cellphone reception deep into the forest, so they are disconnected from the outside world, having only themselves, becoming something of a family unit, with Sam and her dad sharing one tent, while Matt has the other, even bringing foldable chairs to sit on in camp.  There’s a moment that takes us aback, as Matt drunkenly blurts out something that inappropriately crosses a line, with Sam doing a doubletake, not at all amused, shocked at what she hears, but this happens organically, with no dramatic overtones, yet clearly Sam is offended.  The next day when she tries to tell her dad about it, he tries to minimize her outrage, hoping to lessen the impact, telling her to suck it up and not ruin the trip, but his apathy only makes things worse, as the damage has been done, and the floodgates have been opened.  It couldn’t be more quietly devastating, but Sam’s behavior afterwards reveals everything, telling us all that we need to know without any words being spoken.  The subtlety on display is impressive, carving out its own path, but the drama, what little there is, is more about the power of observation, allowing each individual viewer to come to their own conclusions, with an abrupt ending that really has no resolution, but exudes in the power of silence.  Shot in just 12 days by Wilson Cameron, a former visual effects producer, where the rhythm of the film is unwavering, capturing the beauty of the forest, with close-up shots of plants and insects, along with some interesting rock formations, and more than a few unexpected surprises, accompanied by an original score by Celia Hollander that never intrudes, but its ethereal presence is felt throughout.  In the end credits, special thanks are given to indie staples David Gordon Green and Larry Fessenden.