Marta Bałaga skrifar meðal annars:
If festival selections prove anything at all, it’s that there seems to be an entire new genre of films now, both fiction features and docs, that concentrate on a simple life led somewhere far away in the north, where time simply decided to stop and stand still. While actually marking the end of such a peaceful refuge for one Icelandic couple, Yrsa Roca Fannberg’s The Last Autumn – presented in the Documentary Competition at Karlovy Vary – is really no exception. But although it doesn’t bring anything new to the simple, handcrafted wooden table, it still offers some touching moments – just enough for it not to be bothersome. […]
Director Yrsa Roca Fannberg seems hypnotised by these well-rehearsed movements as they keep passing bowls of berries and cream, or listen to the radio announcing that “our world is becoming more computerised” while making precisely nothing of such a revelation at all, at least until the family brings along some mentions of Instagram and Harley Quinn Halloween costumes. It’s just a pity that, save for some added-on black-and-white stills, it’s really not the most visually imaginative of films, expect maybe for a few shots taken from a distance – with people as small as ants and just as vulnerable, surrounded by a world that’s still truly majestic. […]
Dedicated to all of the farmers present during filming, and the few that still remain (with their busy days and wishes for “discreet” funerals), with all its familiarity and its almost sedate pace, The Last Autumn leaves one in a state of not entirely unpleasant lethargy, willing to talk to no one but a faithful dog for the entire week – which, come to think of it, might not be such a bad idea.
Sjá nánar hér: Review: The Last Autumn