We often define ourselves based on the relationships that mark our daily lives, compared to the role we play every day in the world. Thus the protagonist Ingimundur, after losing his wife in a road accident, answering the question "Who are you?", says: "I am a father, a grandfather, a policeman" and only later admits "<0 >I am a widower”. Already in these words the dark driving force of the protagonist is hidden: the continuous and obsessive search for others, to define himself in categories that mask that single devastating expression "I am alone". That extreme condition which seems even more unacceptable in the immense void of Iceland. Yes, because we are what we are also through something that is distinct from us, which depends on all those people with whom a shared reality has been built.
But sometimes some pieces of that world shatter. And a wife can die suddenly in a car accident. Leaving an equally immense void to fill. Thus, Ingimundur goes in an instant from being able to define himself as "husband" to having to attribute himself and get used to the epithet of "widower". In these moments that individuality mentioned above is put to the test, becoming tormented, if not pathological. Because a part of us and our essence is destroyed.
Pervaded by a restlessness that always seems on the verge of exploding, this second work represents the elaboration of a mourning in a desolate Iceland with multiple symbolic and metaphorical outcomes. Disseminated throughout the film in a fragmentary manner, they are often not very cohesive, incapable of leading to a unified vision that includes all those signs mentioned, but never explored in depth. Reaching a single state of magical suggestion, which certainly fascinates, but is not entirely convincing.
Thus that family house, which Ingimundur obsessively wants to build and renovate, represents his desperate attempt to fill the physical void left by the disappearance of wife. Building something capable of replacing that absence with a presence. A material space which, as the protagonist himself says, "must resist the elements". May it provide security and protection for a future that one would like to write and not just imagine. A place that survives time, memories and the past.
But in the same way we must also understand those continuous and incessant announcements of an imminent death and violence. From a stain of blood that struggles to go away, to the violent and unscrupulous killing of a freshly caught fish, slammed forcefully (but serenely) onto a table, to put an end to his agony. All these conditions bind the lives of Ingimundur and his granddaughter Salka in a simultaneously magical and distressing dimension, in a complicity that becomes pain and endurance, reconfirming those relational roles, which were mentioned at the beginning, which define us thanks to those around us.
But the past continues to haunt the protagonist. And the death of his wife itself seems to give him no respite. Because Ingimundur seeks meaning and rationality in something that appears too mysterious to be understood. Ingimundur wants to see, through his eyes, what he has been and what he has not experienced. From here comes his obsession for those photographs and those video memories, which he would like to fill defective memories of a couple's reality perhaps never truly shared.
Because Ingimundur wants to continue to be that father, that grandfather, that policeman. But stop being a widower.
And to do so, reality will no longer be enough.
We will have to abandon that white fog that prevents us from seeing beyond (where a stone rolling down the slope can only be heard and not seen ).
And move on to the black of a dark tunnel.
And only at that point, overcoming those non-colours, will one have access to a world where everything is finally visible.
A designed world with the colors of passion and love, colours, however, which never really existed in that desolate life in Iceland.
From Il Buio In Sala - Report of 37 Turin Film Festival (2019)
But sometimes some pieces of that world shatter. And a wife can die suddenly in a car accident. Leaving an equally immense void to fill. Thus, Ingimundur goes in an instant from being able to define himself as "husband" to having to attribute himself and get used to the epithet of "widower". In these moments that individuality mentioned above is put to the test, becoming tormented, if not pathological. Because a part of us and our essence is destroyed.
Pervaded by a restlessness that always seems on the verge of exploding, this second work represents the elaboration of a mourning in a desolate Iceland with multiple symbolic and metaphorical outcomes. Disseminated throughout the film in a fragmentary manner, they are often not very cohesive, incapable of leading to a unified vision that includes all those signs mentioned, but never explored in depth. Reaching a single state of magical suggestion, which certainly fascinates, but is not entirely convincing.
Thus that family house, which Ingimundur obsessively wants to build and renovate, represents his desperate attempt to fill the physical void left by the disappearance of wife. Building something capable of replacing that absence with a presence. A material space which, as the protagonist himself says, "must resist the elements". May it provide security and protection for a future that one would like to write and not just imagine. A place that survives time, memories and the past.
But in the same way we must also understand those continuous and incessant announcements of an imminent death and violence. From a stain of blood that struggles to go away, to the violent and unscrupulous killing of a freshly caught fish, slammed forcefully (but serenely) onto a table, to put an end to his agony. All these conditions bind the lives of Ingimundur and his granddaughter Salka in a simultaneously magical and distressing dimension, in a complicity that becomes pain and endurance, reconfirming those relational roles, which were mentioned at the beginning, which define us thanks to those around us.
But the past continues to haunt the protagonist. And the death of his wife itself seems to give him no respite. Because Ingimundur seeks meaning and rationality in something that appears too mysterious to be understood. Ingimundur wants to see, through his eyes, what he has been and what he has not experienced. From here comes his obsession for those photographs and those video memories, which he would like to fill defective memories of a couple's reality perhaps never truly shared.
Because Ingimundur wants to continue to be that father, that grandfather, that policeman. But stop being a widower.
And to do so, reality will no longer be enough.
We will have to abandon that white fog that prevents us from seeing beyond (where a stone rolling down the slope can only be heard and not seen ).
And move on to the black of a dark tunnel.
And only at that point, overcoming those non-colours, will one have access to a world where everything is finally visible.
A designed world with the colors of passion and love, colours, however, which never really existed in that desolate life in Iceland.
From Il Buio In Sala - Report of 37 Turin Film Festival (2019)
