Un jour si blanc

My partner & I are obsessive Icelandic fans - and absorb most of the culture there that we can get our hands on. Most film & TV that manage to get this far are surprisingly bleak and Hvítur dagur is no exception.

The film is a rather dry tale of one man's descent and journey through grief with some arresting visuals and an unexpectedly, almost avant, presentation. The lilting drift between stark reality and implied fantasy isn't particularly well defined (intentionally enigmatic rather) - leaving the potentially enlightening ending as a dull thud for me. The draw here is the particularly strong lead performance (Ingvar Sigurðsson, playing a very different type of tragic character than he did in Ófærð) and as always, the biggest star of any Icelandic film, the stunningly monumental and ever-changing countryside.

Bottomless grief, that is the main ingredient in this Icelandic film. How a man mourns the loss of his beloved wife. Masterfully played in a beautiful landscape, we follow the main character who tries to take back everyday life after his great loss. He drowns himself at work, and takes care of a grandchild. All in an attempt to deal with the grief. He reluctantly goes into therapy. We suspect something is going on with the main man, and that he really is hurting. He struggles. The film portrays this very well. It's slow and lingering, but this suits the film well. Eventually, his grief turns to hatred. This change in the plot leads to the film gaining more tempo, and gradually becoming exciting as well. Absolutely worth seeing, but it takes time to get into.

Ingumundur lives alone on a desolate farm. He is trying to rebuild his house and is looking after his granddaughter from time to time. He is quiet on the surface, but underneath he is grieving for his recently deceased wife. When a disturbing detail about his wife's past suddenly comes to the surface it threatens to destroy the fragile peace he has created, and affects everyone he loves.

When the movie starts with good few minutes of a car driving down a misty road you know you are in for a long ride. The harsh landscape of the setting is almost a character in the film. It gives the movie almost a magnetic quality. But there's a sense of imminent tragedy lurking underneath it all.

WHITE WHITE DAY tells a seemingly simple story, but is secretive at times, letting the viewers decide for themselves what motivates the characters. And it is often what happens off screen that has the real impact.

The cinematography however goes a bit overboard with still static shots of everchanging nature, as beautiful as they are they quickly turn irritating.

There are wonderful performances from all involved, specifically a tour de force from the lead Ingvar Siggurdson, as he slowly goes to pieces, his anger, pain and frustration tearing him apart on the inside, as he is just sitting there quietly like a bomb ready to go off.

WHITE WHITE DAY has a story to tell and has some interesting characters to match. It is, however first, and foremost an Arthouse film that tries to experiment with cinematography, light and pacing. It also relies on the viewer's attention, but it is a long , slightly depressing movie and not everyone will last the distance. But if you do it is rather rewarding.

Some movies hide the fact that they have little to say beyond the artistic impressions. WHITE WHITE DAY is not such a film.

Amazing Icelandic drama, with a great score and ambience, not recommended for those annoyed with slow-paced movies

"For some reason, she was always enough for me."

Hvíter Hvíter Dager, Iceland's Oscar entry for Best Foreign Film this year, is a quiet, mature look at grief and memory. It is about a man who carries within him a love so pure, he struggles to understand anything else. It is about refusing to let go of the version of someone you want to hold onto forever.

The narrative slowly unravels like a novel as themes are explored through nuance and metaphor. The delicate dealing with love lost recalls Lee Chang-dong's Secret Sunshine and Céline Sciamma's Portrait de La Jeune Fille en Feu, regarding the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. The cinematography, shot in a noticeably textured 35mm, is peculiar in the way it involves the setting and keeps us a certain physical distance from the characters. I think Michael Haneke would be proud of this film.

The central character Ingimunder's relationship with his granddaughter Salka serves the film in predictable but endearing ways. Strong child acting is often taken for granted, but Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir's performance is far from typical. It is also a testament to both fine direction (Hlynur Palmason) and strong casting because the two leads are almost irreplaceable and truly contribute to make the film something special.

A White, White Day is enriched by its simplicity and singularity as it takes on heavy themes. The characters are real, the story is thoughtfully restrained, and the ending is remarkable. One of the more memorable films of the year.