World Film Locations: Reykjavik

By Jez Conolly, Caroline Whelan

Intellect Ltd

Copyright © 2012 Intellect Ltd
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-84150-641-8

Contents

Maps/Scenes,
Scenes 1-7 1962 – 1992,
Scenes 8-14 1995 – 2005,
Scenes 15-20 2005 – 2007,
Scenes 21-26 2008,
Scenes 27-32 2009 – 2010,
Scenes 33-38 2010 – 2011,
Essays,
Reykjavík: City of the Imagination Jez Conolly & Caroline Whelan,
‘A Stupid Man Built His Home On Sand’: A Filmed Response to the Icelandic Banking Crisis Júliana Björnsdóttir,
Urban/Wilderness: Reykjavík’s Cinematic City-Country Divide Björn Norðjjörð,
Cultural capital and corrugated iron: The 101 Reykjavík postcode on film Heiða Jóhannsdóttir,
Violently Funny: Comedic capers, claustrophobia, and Icelandic crime cinema Bjorn Thor Vilhjalmsson Björk and Beyond:,
Björk and Beyond: Reykjavík’s Onscreen Relationship with its Music Scene Helga Þórey Jónsdóttir,
A Moving Story: Reykjavík as a Global/ Transnational Cinematic City Marcelline Block,
Backpages,
Resources,
Contributor Bios,
Filmography,

CHAPTER 1

REYKJAVÍK

UPFRONT

City of the Imagination

In few other places (if anywhere) will you find such a high percentage of people with the urge to save, if not the world, then at least their own soul through some artistic endeavour.

The poet and novelist Thor Vilhjálmsson on Icelanders, as quoted in Peter Cowie’s book Icelandic Film (Icelandic Film Fund 1995)

THE PACT THAT THE city of Reykjavík exists at all owes a good deal to the power of imagination. The laws of nature would suggest that the chances of a thriving young capital emerging from those ancient black lava fields, so close to the Arctic Circle, so far from most everything else, are slim at best. And yet here it is; a one-off against the odds, a pastel-toned and corrugated improbability fixed in the dark rafters of the world like a luminescent dream-bubble above us. The emergence of modern day Reykjavík as a creative force of nature finds an echo of sorts in the eruptive behaviour of the recently notorious Eyjafjallajökull and its volcanic cousins; it is a source of startling energy, originating in the ancient and yet in a state of constant rebirth, with a by-product that assaults the senses.

The extraordinary landscapes of Iceland have attracted many international filmmakers in recent years, especially those in search of spectacular, off-world backdrops for their action and fantasy epics. You will spot the country’s interior region in films such as Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori, 2002), Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005) and Prometheus (Ridley Scott, 2012). However impressive this use of the natural vistas has been, and however financially advantageous to the local economy, it is tantamount to typecasting the country as a visual source of hellish locations. It also draws the attention away from the small but quietly confident output of indigenous films, many of which feature Reykjavík, the singular metropolitan point in Iceland, as their setting. It is an incomparable city, one that has sparked into extraordinary life within living memory yet has found a way to draw on collective race memory to define itself amid its new found modernity, a feat that recurs in the films and themes discussed in this book.

It is worth briefly charting the legacy of film in Iceland and the path that led to the vibrant Reykjavík that we see on film today. The city saw the opening of its first cinema in 1906, but for many years with only a handful of exceptions when cameras rolled in Iceland they were operated by overseas film-makers, primarily Danish and Swedish, and were pointed at the countryside not the city. It was not until 1948 that Iceland produced its first feature film with sound and in colour – Loftur Guðmundssons pastoral love story Milli fjalls og fjöru/Between Mountain and Shore -indeed from the early 1960s for a period of nearly twenty years hardly any home-grown feature films were produced at all. However, leading up to and during that time a number of documentaries and short films were being made, and the importance of these two forms can still be seen in today’s output. Among the intrepid local documentarists the work of Villi Knudsen and his father Ósvaldur is worthy of attention. Since the 1940s they have been risking life and limb to capture the country’s volcanoes on film. The collective result, ‘The Volcano Show’, can be seen throughout the year at the small and wonderfully sweet Red Rock Cinema on Hellusund close to the Pond in central Reykjavík. They may be merely a tourist attraction but the Knudsens’ films illustrate a characteristically Icelandic resourcefulness and determination to achieve results in their own way.

The post-war boom in Iceland, driven largely by the advantageous consequences of wartime Allied occupation, triggered a mass exodus from the country’s rural reaches to the city, a process that has led to Reykjavík residents constituting four fifths of the national population. This social concentration deposited the nation’s collective saga- steeped mindset into a contemporary city setting that was modernizing at light speed. It has been a place peopled since the late 1970s by a community of creative practitioners comprised in no small part by newly trained film-makers who at that point in time were returning in significant numbers to the land of their birth. They brought with them an air of confidence and a desire to find forms of expression that combined Iceland’s storytelling tradition with its capital’s sudden urban modernity. This injection of young returning talent coincided with the creation of the Icelandic Film Fund and the result has been a modest but steadily growing number of feature productions, along with an ongoing turnover of excellent documentaries and shorts.

Surprise is synonymous with Reykjavík. It is hoped that a leaf through this book will reveal a good deal of cinematic surprises even for the experienced movie-tourist. Who knew for example, that the first multiplex cinema in Europe was opened here, Regnboginn (The Rainbow) in 1977? Perhaps the biggest surprise, given the country’s financial trauma of recent years, is that cinema continues to thrive in the city. Reykjavík has played host to a lively international film festival each September since 2004, described by Gerald Peary of the Boston Phoenix as ‘one of the best-programmed film festivals on earth, and with some of the most exciting guests’. It also accommodates a short film competition, Stuttmyndadagar í Reykjavík, which ran for ten years from 1992 and was revived successfully in the summer of 2008. In 2010 the city acquired a new independent cinema in the form of Bíó Paradís, a state of the art facility occupying the same premises as Regnboginn on Hverfisgata. Despite the dark days experienced since the banking collapse it is possible to say that film is reflecting a glimmer of hope in Reykjavík.

79 Of STATION/79 AF STÖDINNI (1962)

LOCATION

Hótel Borg, Pósthússtræti 11, 101 Reykjavík

79 OF STATION IS an adaptation of the 1950 novella by Indriði G. Porsteinsson. The US naval occupation during and after the war is very present in the film and the story addresses American influences in Iceland. An innocent country boy, Ragnar (Gunnar Eyjólfsson), who is working as a taxi driver in Reykjavík, becomes acquainted with the beautiful and seductive Gógó Faxen (Kristbjörg Kjeld). The discovery of Gógó’s other lovers leaves Ragnar deeply hurt, reflecting the clash between the old and the new in Icelandic culture at the time. The truth about Gógó not only hurts Ragnar, it deprives him of the innocence he once knew – just like the nation has been deprived of its innocence through international, primarily American, influences. The opening scene in the ballroom of Hótel Borg sums up all the major themes presented in the film. We see couples dancing and at the nearby tables people are sitting giggling and flirting. The scene mirrors the new relationships in the lives of the people but also the life of the nation. The flirting between young women and American officers mirrors the flirting of a young nation with a powerful industrial nation. The internal conflict in mid- twentieth century Iceland is played out in a simple scene that on the surface seems only to depict a night on the town. The subtext is however connected to the nation’s long battle for independence and is marred by questions of how independent a small country occupied by a superpower really is. ->Helga Pórey Jónsdóttir

ROCk IN REYKJAVÍK/ROKK Í REYKJAVÍK (1982)

LOCATION

Hlemmur central bus terminal, 101 Reykjavík

THE DOCUMENTARYRock in Reykjavík provides a glimpse into the Reykjavík punk scene at the beginning of the 1980s. Director Friðrik Þór Friðriksson presents the atmosphere of the budding music scene by mixing concert footage with interviews, and captures the eclectic mix of musicians that compiled the Reykjavík punk scene by featuring both famous and non-famous acts, among them Björk in the film. The unexpected candidness of the young artists and the powerful music they play bring the film an enormous amount of energy, which is impossible for the audience to ignore. The central bus terminal Hlemmur gained notoriety in Reykjavík around 1980 because it was (and still is) a hangout for those considered unwanted by mainstream society. Disenfranchised young punk rockers felt at home at Hlemmur and their dominance is shown in a scene shot as they enter the bus station. We see a crowd of leather clad teenagers rush happily through a door into the building. They pretend to fight and are clearly enjoying their image as outsiders. The scene serves as a backdrop to an interview with a young punk rock singer in his early teens who speaks openly about his drug abuse, in particular sniffing. As the viewers are deeply provoked by the dialogue, they are simultaneously presented with the joy and solidarity of the young punks through the images of the film. The scene shows how their social isolation contributes to their solidarity and offers the notion that their friendships might be the only relationship going on in their lives based on equality. ->Helga Þórey Jónsdóttir

ATOMIC STATION/ATÓMSTÖÐIN (1984)

LOCATION

Austurvöllur public square, 101 Reykjavík

ATOMIC STATION is an adaptation of Nobel Prize winner Halldór Laxness’ novel about Ugla (Tinna Gunnlaugsdóttir), a young girl moving to the city to learn to play the organ during the British Occupation at the beginning of World War II. The viewer is drawn into Ugla’s life and sees clearly the two worlds she becomes part of. One world is that of the wealthy, superficial family of Búi Árland (Gunnar Eyjólfsson) whom she works for. The Árlands have a close relationship with the prime minister and many prominent political figures visit their home. Ugla’s other world is the home of the organist (Ámi Tryggvason) and the people that visit him. At the end of the film Ugla is seen walking through Austurvöllur, a small park in front of Alþingi, the Icelandic parliament. The backdrop is the anti-NATO riots of 30 March 1949 in Reykjavík. We see Ugla walk through a mist most likely designed to remind the viewer of the tear gas launched at protesters. Ugla, a country girl who has visited both the elite and the underground of Reykjavík, walks through the chaos that defines a nation caught in the middle of a war not of its making. Unlike her nation, which took a different direction, she finds solace in her roots. The powerful imagery is coincidentally linked to the 2009 protests at the same place following the Icelandic banking crisis. Sixty years later the internal battle for Iceland was still being fought. ->Helga Þórey Jónsdóttir

WHITE WHALES/SKYTTURNAR (1987)

LOCATION

Sundhöll Reykjavíkur, by Barónsstígur, 101 Reykjavík

IN WHITE WHALES director Friðrik Þór Friðriksson explores the complicated relationship Icelanders have with the controversial subject of whaling. The story is about two whalers and their night in the city after their final hunting trip before the ban of commercial whaling. The setting is a dark and lonely town, where the whalers go between bars and parties on an aimless drinking binge. Their alienation and loss of purpose reflect the serious changes in the country in matters concerning national identity and self-perception. The image Icelanders had as a whale-hunting nation was not only an image projected at the world, but an integral part of the national psyche. Without work and purpose the whalers are backed into a corner in life and their destruction is inevitable. Their estrangement from society and authority issues is best reflected in the final scene of the film where a car chase ends by The Reykjavík Swimming Pool (Sundhöll Reykjavíkur). Inside the building, on the floor of the empty indoor pool, a shooting takes place between one of the men and the police. The scene mirrors the opening scene of the film in which audiences watch a fish on dry land, struggling for its life, gasping for the air it should not be breathing. Like the fish the wounded sailor ironically tries to take shelter in the empty swimming pool, but as in life a poorly chosen shelter offers no protection. His independence from society only isolates him further from the world he once belonged to. ->Helga Þórey Jónsdóttir

CHILDREN OF NATURE/BÖRN NÁTTÚRUNNAR (1991)

LOCATION

Hólavallagarður cemetery by Suðurgata, 101 Reykjavík

CHILDREN OF NATURE, the first Icelandic film to receive an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Film, brings an air of undesired solitude and the slow passing of life into the very heart of the viewer. In the featured scene the protagonist Þorgeir (Gísli Halldórsson) takes a solitary walk through the narrow pathways of the Hólavallargarður Cemetery after the death of his roommate at the retirement home. The cemetery was consecrated in 1838 and is one of the largest and oldest cemeteries in Iceland. Many renowned nineteenth and twentieth century Icelanders are buried here. The inescapable symbolism is one of hunting and marks the very beginning of his leap to freedom. The memory of Iceland’s pastoral past is his salvation from the fast pace of modernity; this was a life where survival was the primary goal for the isolated community of farmers and fishermen who once upon a time inhabited the very tip of Iceland’s almost detached branch. As Þorgeir reaches the rusted hinge of the iron cemetery gates he finds his way to Vesturfirðir’s Hornastrendur, the place where he and his childhood sweetheart Stella (Sigríður Hagalín) long to be. In the cool Atlantic breeze the tree branches hanging over the row of century-old headstones tremble, as do the limbs of the old man on the cold autumn day. His prayers are answered: parked in front of the row of city homes on Ljósvallagata, a classic red and brown jeep is parked waiting to be taken on its final journey. ->Júlíana Björnsdóttir

REMOTE CONTROL/SÓDÓMA REYKJAVÍK (1992)

LOCATION

Reykjavíkurvegur, leading from Reykjavík to Hafnarfjörður

THE SELF-EFFACING PROTAGONIST Axel (Björn Jörundur), along with his friend Unnur (Sóley Elíasdóttir), is driving to Hafnarfjörður, a suburb adjacent to Reykjavík that along with other towns form part of the greater Reykjavík area. They are going to meet Unnur’s brother Moli (Helgi Björnsson), a character who assumes a pivotal part of the narrative. While the two characters journey to see Moli they engage in a conversation in which Unnur acts condescendingly towards Axel. Axel on the other hand tries his best to be accommodating, even saying ‘God bless you’ after Unnur sneezes. Despite this Unnur continues to act in a negative manner. Although they both come across as vulnerable, this tendency manifests itself in different ways, as Unnur is far more aggressive than Axel. Axel’s car is seen in various helicopter- mounted long shots throughout the scene. As his car races smoothly through the suburban wasteland, the viewer can marvel at the sparsely populated greater Reykjavík area. The shots of the car are intertwined with shots of the characters inside. This is not the only scene in the film where a car (or cars) is vital, in fact the film also has a car chase scene, which is rare in Icelandic films. Óskar Jónassohs use of the car in the film adds a sense of realism to a comedy that is preoccupied with the silly side of life. The use of cars reveals a sense of connection to the Icelandic audience since in recent decades Reykjavík has become an urban space tailored to the needs of the automobile. ->Hilmar Gudlaugsson

WALLPAPER: AN EROTIC LOVE STORY/VEGGFÓÐUR (1992)

LOCATION

Laugardalslaug, v/ Sundlaugarveg, 104 Reykjavík

THE SWIMMING POOL situated in Laugardalur has for centuries been the centre of cleanliness in Reykjavík, a place where housewives brought their washing and people used to block the soapy stream running from the wash pool and enjoy a bath. The first organized swimming lessons there took place in the nineteenth century until ironically, the swimming teacher drowned. A small pool was built in 1907 but the Olympic-sized swimming pool and the surrounding water world was not opened until 1968 and is now the centre for swimming and all-round yuppie health in Reykjavík. As meeting places, swimming pools, now located in every neighbourhood of the city, serve a similar purpose as market squares in warmer climates, where people gather to meet, share gossip, discuss politics, or just ponder the meaning of it all. And they have been used for these purposes since the first settlers arrived in Iceland, bewildered by the smoke rising above the land. It is fitting that a film about the Reykjavík nightlife has a scene in a hotpot since a good dip the morning after has almost become an extension to late night partying, mostly to enjoy the warmth and minimize the repercussions. The main characters and best friends in Júlíus Kemp’s Wallpaper, Sveppi (Steinn Ármann Magnússon) and Lass (Baltasar Kormákur), relax and show their goofier side in the soothing waters of one of the fun pools at Laugardalslaug as they talk with the beautiful Sól (Ingibjörg Stefánsdóttir) in this typical Reykjavík scene. ->Gunnar Tómas Kristófersson

‘A STUPID MAN BUILT HIS HOME ON SAND’

LOCATION

A Filmed Response To The Icelandic Banking Crisis

HARMONIOUS IN HER INTIMACY with Mother Nature, Reykjavík was once upon a time a peaceful city, somewhat rustic in parts and a far cry from the rush of modernity. Away from the city centre, in the eastern suburban parts of the city, flows the River Ellidaá. Its path runs through the valley that is born out of an ancient lava field and gave its name to the river whose water merges with the salty sea, eventually travelling to the shores of the city centre. On the bicentennial anniversary of the city in 1986, composer Jón Múli Árnason captured the spirit of Reykjavík’s youth and lyricist Jón Árnason interpreted her soul in a song entitled ‘Fröken Reykjavík’ (translates to ‘Miss Reykjavík’). The song is an anthem, transcending her beauty and provocative heart in its playful musicality and heart- warming lyrics. In her young adulthood, she, the city of Reykjavík, still wears her heart on her sleeve. Bruised and battered after the harsh blow of the economic crisis that commenced in 2008, she is yet again em-powered by the rare fusion of landscape and cityscape in the very heart of the city.

The dawn of materialism crept its way into the isolated society on the outskirts of the world. The lavish wedding in the chick-flick Dís (Silja Hauksdóttir, 2004), with its invitation of expensive seafood and Prosciutto, is held in Reykjavík’s finest dining hall in Hótel Borg. Austurvöllur is lush with wealth. The 5th of October 2008 was the day when the bubble burst. After secret meetings in the small hours of the morning between government officials and the heads of the Icelandic banks, the well-oiled banking machine squeaked to an abrupt halt.

The duress of the long economic winter is the theme of Útràs Reykjavík/Revolution Reykjavík (Isold Uggadottir, 2011). In a mere eighteen minutes this short film captures the heart and soul of a proud Icelander, initially caught in the intoxicating fumes of false prosperity then crushed in the aftermath of the un-imaginable economic crash. Caught in a storm of sudden unemployment, the unveiling of a deceitful corporate and political web deconstructs the ideology of a loyal follower of the Icelandic Independent Party, and the Icelandic business model as presented by the shepherds leading the herd at the height of prosperity. Gudfinna, like the wounded sheep left to die in the wake of the shepherd’s abandonment, is filled with quiet anger fumed by her wounded pride, a pride irreparably damaged and shattered in the wake of the individual’s economic death. The stern pride of a woman whose generation is no stranger to economic instability and brought up to believe in the value of hard work, is erased in the first months of the recession. This symbol of the Icelandic national character is the epicentre of the film, written and directed by Isold Ug-gadóttir and first premiered at the ‘Reykjavík International Film Festival’ (RIFF) in 2011.

In the meantime, the heart of the city centre is in flames, and thousands of anonymous faces stand to defend their property and the integrity of the shamed nation. Flaming rage bled from the scarlet footprints tramping down on the yellow patches of Austurvöllur, and the violence of angry voices and the constant banging of pots and pans replaced the sophisticated attire of the wedding guests standing on the steps of Hótel Borg. It was false prosperity that peaked and crashed, and at its funeral formerly quiet civilians demanded immediate re-election. The first protest was held on Saturday 11 October, 2008, and the government accepted defeat on 26 January the following year. Búsáhaldabyltingin, or the Kitchenware Revolution as it has been labelled, successfully removed the coalition government of the Independent Party with Prime Minister Geir Haarde leading the way, and Samfylkingin, the Social-Democratic Alliance, led by the Minister of Foreign Affairs Ingibjörg Sólrún Gíisladóttir stepped down. The rage of the participating protestors often led to violent confrontation and during its height police officers were battered with eggs, sour yoghurt and even bricks. It was the low point of an otherwise peaceful protest. Guð Blessi Ísland/God Bless Iceland (2009) is a documentary by Helgi Felixson that captured some of the key moments in the Icelandic revolution.

(Continues…)Excerpted from World Film Locations: Reykjavik by Jez Conolly, Caroline Whelan. Copyright © 2012 Intellect Ltd. Excerpted by permission of Intellect Ltd.
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