Vanskabte Land

Fr. Lucas (Elliott Crosset Hove) is despatched by his bishop to a remote settlement in Iceland where he is charged with building a church and establishing a parish. Upon arrival, he is met by "Ragnar" (Ingvar Sigurdsson) - a rather unwelcoming man, who is tasked with guiding him to the hamlet many days trek away. Their journey tests the mettle of the young priest. The hostility of the environment, the indifference of his travelling companions, the cold, the wind, the rain - all of these make him consider seriously what he is doing and whether he actually has the faith. His exhaustion causes him to finally fall from his horse and upon wakening we discover that he has luckily arrived at his destination and is being nursed by "Anna" (Vic Carmen Sonne). He is broadly welcomed and the construction of his church proceeds but he is not a man at ease with his surroundings, his new-found parishioners and but for an increasingly close relationship with "Anna" would be an inch from despair. Is this a place where he can settle and live? The cinematography is gorgeous - make sure you take a jumper when you watch it. The sheer inhospitableness of this island. It was hardly a place for the indigenous ponies, it is certainly not a place for a clergyman used to home comforts now reduced to sleeping in a thin canvas tent! He was a photographer - and the film is inspired by a small collection of his photographs that were found. It was possibly this photography that he felt gave him a purpose as the man we see at the end bears little resemblance to the one we meet in Denmark at the beginning. This features a very strong performance from Hove. He manages the transformation of his character well and that encourages us to feel invested in him and his conflict. I did not enjoy, nor really understand, the last fifteen minutes. The story takes a turn for the brutal and the tragic in a way that seemed to me unnecessary and somewhat inexplicable. Cause and effect - but why? Perhaps I missed something? Anyway, this is well worth watching and though a bit long, is quite thought-provoking at times.

The first thing that strikes the viewer at the outset of Hlynur Pálmason's GODLAND is the 1:33 aspect ratio framing. The edges are curved like that of a photographic plate. It's the first of many indelible images that Cinematographer Maria von Hausswolff captures in 35mm. The visuals are key here in Pálmason's screenplay as he weaves a story around photographs taken by his protagonist, Lucas (Elliot Crosset Hove), a vain Danish Priest tasked with traversing the rugged Scandanavian landscape in order to build a church in Iceland in the late 19th Century.

Lucas hires a brawny Icelandic guide, Ragnar (Ingvar Sigurdsson), to lead the journey. After many travails, they reach their destination - a remote village. Lucas finds a room in a shack owned by Carl (Jacob Lohmann) and his two daughters, Anna (Vic Carmen Sonne) and Ida (Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir - the Director Pálmason's actual child).

The plot is merely a device for Pálmason to create the setting for his film. The term "Godland" could be more accurately translated as "Godforsaken". The terrain is at once beautiful and foreboding. The innate impatience of Lucas is exacerbated by the physical and mental toll the surroundings take on his body and mind. He doesn't lose faith as much as he fails its challenges. Von Hausswolff's camerawork brilliantly creates a world of its own - a character. Pálmason uses a number of long single takes to place the viewer in the environment.

The villagers aren't a particularly religious group yet they seem to embody what is known as faith, more than the preacher sent to enlighten them. Pálmason seems to be initiating a conversation with the viewer where one ponders whether the notion of organized religion truly has meaning in such a remote habitat. Is the earth god or goddess (Gaia) the rightful ruler here? Lucas is such an imperfect vessell that Pálmason does stack the deck a bit (and a few of the plot permutations come off as unneccessarily specific), but he has a well wrought vision. GODLAND is something to behold.

The film has some amazing imagery, it is intriguing, it has drama, mistery and above all, it shows the dominant force of nature, that is depicted as far more powerful than the ephemeral characters that try to make a living on earth.

I found it as an odd to nature, to specifically the Icelandic harsh but majestic natural landscape and to the way people used to respect this. It is a great movie in many ways.

However, it's plot is slow-moving, the scenes are extremely long, do not expect to be entertained as it is the complete opposite of a fast-action, Hollywood-style movie. It is often rather boring and there is the real danger that the 2 hours and 23 minutes to pass rather slow to you as it did to me. I has the impression that the movie could have been just as deep and beautiful lasting only say 1 hours and 45 minutes.

GODLAND reminded my of MEEK'S CUTOFF, and not just because of the squarish aspect ratio. Both are a journey across harsh landscapes that test and transform people. But to my mind it is no BLACK ROBE. I've read reviews calling the main character, Lucas, pious with a desire to save souls etc. I didn't get this feeling AT ALL. He seemed more preoccupied with taking photos than being some kind of head in the sky religious zealot on a mission to spread the word of God (as in BLACK ROBE). There's very little Bible thumping to be had. Other reviewers have also called it 'bone-chilling', 'horror' etc. It's none of these things. I'm not sure why they are reaching for such superlatives. It's actually a fairly pedestrian story and the dramatic moments came as something of a surprise (to me at least). I found the ending somewhat unfathomable as well bc, for me, little led up to it. Still, it was satisfyingly bleak with majestic mountains, mist, rivers and glaciers. But really, it could have been much more,

Iceland is terrible and beautiful.

A wooden trunk is uncovered with seven photographs in it from a hundred and fifty years ago in Iceland. The trunk belonged to a Danish priest who died there. Among the images are snow covered mountain ridges, a waterfall, glacier, and a portrait of a girl on a horse. Godland imagines the circumstances of how the photographs were taken.

A young Danish priest, Lucas, is assigned to a remote Icelandic village. He is told to adapt to the people and place, but because he is arrogant, he does neither. Against the advice of his guide and despite freezing rain and snow, Lucas insists upon going into the mountains and crossing a treacherous river. By the time they make it to his assigned village, Lucas is miserable, detested, isolated, and barely alive. Lucas is destined to become a part of Iceland, but not in the way he desires.

The sights and sounds of Godland are exquisite and resplendent. Listen to the women and birds singing, the ocean swells, the roar of a waterfall, a fierce river current, and volcano rumbling. Peer beneath the surface of the river, look across ice fields and canyons, see raindrops beginning to fall on smooth and sable stone, find your way through the thick fog, and gaze up close into a woman's eyes.

One of Lucas' greatest mistakes is seeing himself apart from nature, animals, and the local people. In showing the cycles of the seasons, and of life and death, Godland gently makes us aware of this crime. It is just one of the many wonders and complexities of this compelling, visually stunning, and thought-provoking film.

Godland premiered in Cannes and I saw it at the Toronto International Film Festival.