Halla (Halldóra Geirhardsdóttir)—a 49-year-old Icelandic woman—clearly wants to change the world for the better. But is that goal better served by her campaign of eco-terrorism—cutting off the power supply to the local aluminum plant—or by her desire to adopt a 4-year-old Ukrainian orphan? That tension provides a solid foundation for director/co-writer Benedikt Erlingsson’s feature, which mixes the urgency of Halla’s sense that the world is falling apart with a fanciful approach in which all the movie’s theoretically non-diegetic music is performed by musicians and singers who appear on screen. It’s a tricky balancing act, as Erlingsson repeatedly emphasizes a world where surveillance and governmental power seem to make direct action impossible, and in which a hapless immigrant tourist keeps getting blamed for Halla’s sabotage. Yet Geirhardsdóttir’s performance never allows Halla—who works as a choir director—to come off as dour or shrill in the face of such obstacles. She brings physicality and intensity to the idea of refusing to give up hope, as long as there’s one thing you can do to make that hope more realistic.
By
Scott Renshaw