From Denmark and Iceland, an award-winning historical, severe in character, storyline & execution.* It’s late-1800s when young, untested Priest Elliot Crosset Hove is assigned to build a church before winter sets in at a small Danish community under development in Iceland. Writer/director Hlynur Pálmason gives his game away from the start, introducing the priest as the sort who ignores the fine meal his superior has put on the table to unblinkingly stare with the eyes of a zealot as he receives his special commission. A difficult trip to the site loses a man to wild river currents, while unceasing daylight & strangely unsettling/beautiful terrain uplifts & weighs down on them in equal measure; except for the local guide whose Icelandic tongue keeps him grounded to the land but at a certain distance. So, it’s a shock to finally reach the not unpleasant homestead community and be welcomed by a widower with two girls in comfortable conditions, then asked why he didn’t just sail directly to port. Was his journey a test? Something to do with the photographic equipment he’s been diligently carting with him? And once there, this chilly addition to the little group turns covetous of accommodations, horses, the farmer’s older daughter; and begatter of distrust (him and the widower; him and the guide; him and his own neglected duties). The film disquieting and, frankly, dislikable. It all ends badly with violent secrets leading to murders of man and beast. I suppose you could call it uncompromising; it’s certainly no ad for Danish Lutherism. Yikes! Here looking much like Calvinist denial, dressed up with those finicky white neck collars.
ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Severe enough to be shot on 35mm stock in ‘Academy Ratio’ (1.33 : 1), particularly helpful in mountainous settings where compositions lean toward the vertical. And in a film calling for many full-face close-ups, proportionally 1.33 : 1.
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