Godland - Nella terra di Dio

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.

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.

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)

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.

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.