Katz skrifar:
If Icelandic filmmaker Hlynur Pálmason’s work has an overall motif to date, it could be summed up by lines from Joy Division’s eponymous post-punk anthem, whose chorus merely goes, “Isolation, Isolation, Isolation”. His mise-en-scène strongly betrays that his country’s population is only 350,000, its hills and horizons feeling untouched, and existing as they likely had centuries ago. Despite this notion’s connection with settlements and colonialism, its landscape also suggests a tabula rasa, bounding with potential to harness, beauty to reap, and the capability to inspire artistic creativity and love.
“Godland”, his breakout 2022 feature following an unstable Danish priest establishing a new church on the islands, exhibited the darkest variation on these ideas, with formal ballast for acres, despite a surplus of solemnity, and obvious pinches from “There Will be Blood” and Werner Herzog. He’s been touting another spectacularly ambitious movie, “On Land and Sea”, but pivoted to “The Love That Remains” as a follow-up, a more intimate project shot piecemeal over several years, referencing difficult events in his life, if stopping short of raw auto-fiction.
