Godland

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.

At least twice during this film, the director uses a bold and spectacular cinematographic gimmick. In the shots, lasting several minutes, the camera turns very slowly around in a 360-degree movement. These shots are almost mini-films within the film. In the second one, the camera captures a village wedding party, with musicians, dancers and children playing. Wonderful to look at.

There are more beautiful shots in the film. One shows a dead horse, slowly decaying in a series of identical shots, but filmed in different seasons. Has the director filmed the entire process during a full year? It's possible, there is enough space in the immense expanse of Iceland's remote wilderness.

Apart from the 19th century Danish priest who is the story's protagonist, the Icelandic landscape is really the most important element in the film. In the first part, there really isn't much else. After having arrived by ship, the priest travels on horseback through the barren landscape, accompanied by some taciturn Icelanders. When he arrives at a village in order to build a new church, the story concentrates on the tension between the Icelanders and the priest, who is not only seen as a representative of an oppressive country, but also seems ill-prepared for the physical challenges of the primitive Icelandic lifestyle.

In order to give this simple story an extra dimension, the priest is also a photographer, making portraits of the people he meets. In the 19th century, this was an elaborate process involving eggwhite and silver. The director wants us to believe it is the recent discovery of those photo's, which survived the centuries, that made him reconstruct the priest's journey.

For me, the film ticked several boxes. I have hiked through the Icelandic interior, and yes, the landscape really is amazing. I also like slow cinema, and this is very slow cinema. Thirdly, this film also contains some food for thought about religion. Officially, the Danish priest and the Icelandic villagers share the same religion, but the way they experience it couldn't be more different.

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,

Unlikely to appeal to anyone seeking a film experience that features a straight forward narrative or easy to digest themes/events, Hlynur Pálmason's Denmark backed and Iceland shot epic is a film happy to enthral and mystify in equal measure, creating an offering that is at times majestic and at other times frustrating but one that at all times provides some of the most hauntingly beautiful captured imagery of the modern era.

Inspired by a series of photographs discovered in Iceland that were taken by a visiting Danish priest in the early 19th century, Godland follows the adventures of Elliott Crosset Hove's young Danish priest Lucas who finds himself tasked with venturing to the rugged lands of Iceland to establish the good word of God only to find his mission constantly running into roadblocks, roadblocks that threaten to destroy Lucas's faith, his sanity and his very life.

Creating an off-putting mood not dissimilar to the feeling the character of Lucas would be dealing with, Godland is an unnerving and uncomfortable film in many ways, as we like Lucas find ourselves in an unfamiliar setting with little context or background about what has come before and what is still too come and while at times early on it may appear as though Pálmason's film is heading in a certain direction, it remains an unpredictable and frequently surprising feature in ways both good and bad.

Throughout this strange tale, seeped deep in Icelandic custom and lore, Pálmason and his director of photography Maria von Hausswolff create some of the most eye capturing imagery you're likely to see from the cinematic medium, from raging waterfalls, precarious cliff top paths or decomposing horses, Godland is overflowing with visual beauty that won't soon be forgotten by engaged viewers giving this film an almost Malick like majesty that its story and characters are unable to match.

Most prominent with Lucas who is a hard central figure to warm too and joined by a plot-line that isn't always easy to understand from a point of view of clearly identifying its message or meanings, Godland isn't an easy film to fall in love with, despite its incredible artistic achievements, making it somewhat of a missed opportunity to create a modern day classic that explores themes of God, love and ones place in the wider world.

Final Say -

Visually one of the most spectacular and memorable offerings of the year, Godland's strange story and equally strange characters make it a film hard to warm too despite its many noteworthy technical accomplishments.

3 1/2 fireside stories out of 5.

Jordan and Eddie (The Movie Guys)

Visuals: 10/10. Sound design: 10/10. Storyline: 10/10. Where this film loses me is primarily the storytelling and dialogue. Some things happened in this movie that just felt odd and out of place. Some characters said/did things that made me feel like i had missed a huge part of the movie. The dialogue was a huge reason that the storytelling was inadequate. All the characters feel, though seemingly on purpose, extremely stiff and nothing they say flows at all. However, like I said, that was probably Hlynur Palmason's intention for the movie is an adaption of simple photographs which is evident in the cinematography. This film is not really a movie so much as a slideshow, which, although it makes for stunning photography and a unique shtick, makes the characters less relatable. However, I must say there were moments near the end where a felt a strong bond with the protagonist that I hadn't expected throughout the first hour and a half.