If fairy tales were real, I imagine they would take place in the Icelandic countryside.
Breathtaking landscapes of luscious grassy hillsides and crystal-clear lakes have the power to romanticize any story, even if they don’t end in “happily ever after.” A Reykjavik native herself, 34-year-old Ása Helga Hjörleifsdóttir makes her feature-length directorial debut with The Swan (Svanurinn), a coming of age drama that lends a tender touch to a tale as old as time.
Equally matching the idyllic setting is The Swan‘s protagonist, a curious and emotionally intelligent nine-year-old girl named Sól (Gríma Valsdóttir). When we meet Sól, whose angelic demeanor steals every scene, she is getting ready to leave her parent’s house near the coast to spend the summer with estranged relatives in the country. However, this isn’t a vacation, or even a choice, for Sól, but rather a punishment for getting caught shoplifting. As a consequence, her parents decide that spending a summer working on her aunt and uncle’s farm to learn discipline through hard work, is just what their young girl needs.
Sól is immediately put to work, undertaking age-appropriate chores, while slowly starting to converse and become infatuated with, a twenty-something farmhand, Jón (Thor Kristjansson). Jón is equally fascinated with Sól, whose emotional maturity connects with his poetic ways. Their special bond is disrupted when Sól’s older cousin Ásta (Þuríður Blær Jóhannsdóttir) returns home from college and disrupts the tranquility of the family’s daily routine. As she is quickly thrust into situations far beyond her understanding, Sól struggles to make sense of the drama unfolding within the family. To cope with her changing situation and the sudden confrontation with life and death, she escapes into her own fantasy world comprised of vivid imagery within nature.
Martin Neumeyer’s eye for breathtaking imagery is on full display here, literally, every frame creates a magical quality that gives off a feeling of optimism and rebirth.
The character of Sól is a dynamic one, and Valsdóttir’s performance is nothing short of astounding. Sól is both confident and timid, with creativity and empathy that far exceeds her age. Her transformation from when she arrived at the farm to the film’s very last frame is an exciting journey to witness in the short 91-minute runtime. It’s undeniable that a major part of what makes this so fascinating is the cinematography. Martin Neumeyer’s eye for breathtaking imagery is on full display here, literally, every frame creates a magical quality that gives off a feeling of optimism and rebirth.
Unlike Under the Tree, another recent Icelandic drama that portrays a dispute in the suburbs gone terribly wrong, The Swan shows rural Iceland in its purest and most beautiful form. Audiences, much like the film’s protagonist, will stare wide-eyed at the natural beauty on display, while also being reminded of the strength of love, the power of compassion, and the meaning of life.
‘The Swan’ is not rated. 91 minutes. Opening this Friday at the Laemmle Royal.
