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Straight Out, Stories from Iceland (Hrein & Bein)
Straight Out, Stories from Iceland (Hrein & Bein)
Documentary, Iceland, 2003, 60’
Dir: Hrafnhildur Gunnarsdottir
The film portrays 9 young gay people from the age of 18 to 28 who testify to their experiences of emerging from the Icelandic closet. The images and words in the film mirror the experience of the many who have come before them, yet they reveal truths rarely before spoken in this society. Their stories and memories paint a picture from the edge of Icelandic society and from the edge of the inhabited world. Yet their experiences are somehow familiar. We watch them recall their first feelings of not fitting in, their first crush, their first thoughts of self hate, fucking the opposite sex, suicide attempts, drinking, standing up to their parents, love, alcohol treatments, all in the attempt of finding self respect and at last creating their own community. In this cunningly sincere documentary the Icelandic gay and lesbian experience is accurately described with out beautifying it or dramatizing it. This documentary film is the first gay film to come out of Iceland.
The usage of photographs and home video add to the texture of time. Only the kids speak and no outside views are expressed. The film is an insider film as the two filmmakers are both gay, which creates the relaxed and honest atmosphere as difficult subjects are broached.
Awarded the Stu&Dave Excellence Documentary Award at the SFILGFF 2003 and “Best Youth” Documentary at the Indianapolis Lesbian and Gay Film Festival.
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Wrestling (Bræðrabylta) by Grímur Hákonarson (Iceland, 2008)
In glíma, or folk wrestling, two opponents maintain a fixed grip on each other’s harnesses, broad belts that encircle their waists and thighs. Locked in this apparent embrace, they attempt to wrestle each other to the ground as they step clockwise in a slow, measured movement resembling a waltz. A code of honor called Drengskapur demands that the wrestlers always exhibit fairness, respect, and caring towards one another. Training partners Elnar and Denni take Drengskapur one step further when they fall in love. Despite inevitable comparisons to Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, this new Icelandic film isn’t about society’s bigotry as much as it is about the men’s resistance to forming a relationship in light of Elnar’s marriage.
Wrestling participated in the Sundance Film Festival in 2008. (In Icelandic. 20 min.)
Wrestling (Bræðrabylta) by Grímur Hákonarson (Iceland, 2008)
In glíma, or folk wrestling, two opponents maintain a fixed grip on each other’s harnesses, broad belts that encircle their waists and thighs. Locked in this apparent embrace, they attempt to wrestle each other to the ground as they step clockwise in a slow, measured movement resembling a waltz. A code of honor called Drengskapur demands that the wrestlers always exhibit fairness, respect, and caring towards one another. Training partners Elnar and Denni take Drengskapur one step further when they fall in love. Despite inevitable comparisons to Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, this new Icelandic film isn’t about society’s bigotry as much as it is about the men’s resistance to forming a relationship in light of Elnar’s marriage.
Wrestling participated in the Sundance Film Festival in 2008. (In Icelandic. 20 min.)
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***
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101 Reykjavík, based on a book of the same name by Hallgrímur Helgason, directed by Baltasar Kormákur (2000)
Named after a postcode of the Icelandic capital, where the main scenes take place, this is the story of the geek Hlynur (Hilmir Snær Guðnason). Approaching the grand old age of 30, he still lives with his mother, downloads cyberporn and wanders around Reykjavík half-heartedly searching for a job while spending lots of time in Kaffibarinn, the central Reykjavík bar which just happens to be owned by writer/director Baltasar Kormákur and his soundtrack composer Damon Albarn, a long-standing Icelandophile.
The cramped, dark and oddly furnished house in which Hlynur and his mother live features a bath which transfigures into a sofa as Hlynur steps naked out of it, in the middle of the lounge with his mother watching.
Hlynur's isolated world — no small metaphor for his home country — is going along rather blissfully ignorant of the greater joys involved with engaging in life until his mother's friend Lola Milagros (former Almodovar it-girl Victoria Abril) arrives to stay at the house for a while. Lola is a Spanish flamenco instructor with a seductive smile, a sultry voice and a carpe diem attitude. She's also in love with Hlynur's mom, Berglind (Hanna María Karlsdóttir). An enigmatic character, Lola quickly becomes the center of the household dynamic when, after a night of heavy drinking while mom is away, she and Hlynur sleep together. Hlynur is of course jealous of their relationship, realizing that he was simply a momentary fling for Lola, but he is also the dutiful son who wants to badly to accept his mother's newfound lesbianism and be happy for her. Lola wants Hlynur to get out of the house and find himself something to do, not in a mean way, but because she recognizes from the start that that's what he needs most.
Hlynur prefers to pass the time in a true slacker fashion with plenty of excess and not an iota of effort. Hlynur sees no real future for himself, rather an entire life supported by the Icelandic welfare state. "It's a great system." he says. When asked what he does, Hlynur responds with, "Nothing." Pushed further with, "What kind of nothing?" he replies the only way he can: "A nothing kind of nothing." Not even death is a serious topic for Hlynur — intoxicating, out-all-night weekends inspire, "Each weekend I drop dead." He says this while lighting up a Lucky atop a snow-capped mountain, where he lies down as the snow gradually covers him up, but his plans are scuppered by rainfall melting his would-be tomb.
On the other hand, Hlynur's fantasy life is alive with passion and glimpses of his subconscious show us a deeply conflicted sense of self. Flashbacks of an alcoholic father mix with sexual fantasies of the lovely Lola but quickly reveal that mom's in bed, too. During a quick trip to the suburbs for a dinner with extended family, Hlynur, so comically disturbed by the mundane family ritual (they actually gather to watch a video of last year's family dinner), imagines a bloodbath scene killing everyone at close range with a shotgun. When brought back to reality, Hlynur's blank slate and effortless personality come back into the fore: "I was thinking what a nice couch you have," he explains to the previously slaughtered family. He salvages the suburban trip with a Salinger-esque gesture, subversively letting his little cousin light and smoke a cigarette which symbolically is an attempt to light his inner self.
The film progresses as Hlynur comes to terms with his mother's love for Lola and his own feelings of inadequacy with her. The announcement that Lola is pregnant pushes him to the brink, making living under the same roof next to impossible for all three, but after a lot of acting out and flippant commentary Hlynur begins to see life little differently. The infant's arrival also symbolically coincides neatly with Hlynur's homecoming to the world outside his bedroom and a newfound contentedness
101 Reykjavík, based on a book of the same name by Hallgrímur Helgason, directed by Baltasar Kormákur (2000)
Named after a postcode of the Icelandic capital, where the main scenes take place, this is the story of the geek Hlynur (Hilmir Snær Guðnason). Approaching the grand old age of 30, he still lives with his mother, downloads cyberporn and wanders around Reykjavík half-heartedly searching for a job while spending lots of time in Kaffibarinn, the central Reykjavík bar which just happens to be owned by writer/director Baltasar Kormákur and his soundtrack composer Damon Albarn, a long-standing Icelandophile.
The cramped, dark and oddly furnished house in which Hlynur and his mother live features a bath which transfigures into a sofa as Hlynur steps naked out of it, in the middle of the lounge with his mother watching.
Hlynur's isolated world — no small metaphor for his home country — is going along rather blissfully ignorant of the greater joys involved with engaging in life until his mother's friend Lola Milagros (former Almodovar it-girl Victoria Abril) arrives to stay at the house for a while. Lola is a Spanish flamenco instructor with a seductive smile, a sultry voice and a carpe diem attitude. She's also in love with Hlynur's mom, Berglind (Hanna María Karlsdóttir). An enigmatic character, Lola quickly becomes the center of the household dynamic when, after a night of heavy drinking while mom is away, she and Hlynur sleep together. Hlynur is of course jealous of their relationship, realizing that he was simply a momentary fling for Lola, but he is also the dutiful son who wants to badly to accept his mother's newfound lesbianism and be happy for her. Lola wants Hlynur to get out of the house and find himself something to do, not in a mean way, but because she recognizes from the start that that's what he needs most.
Hlynur prefers to pass the time in a true slacker fashion with plenty of excess and not an iota of effort. Hlynur sees no real future for himself, rather an entire life supported by the Icelandic welfare state. "It's a great system." he says. When asked what he does, Hlynur responds with, "Nothing." Pushed further with, "What kind of nothing?" he replies the only way he can: "A nothing kind of nothing." Not even death is a serious topic for Hlynur — intoxicating, out-all-night weekends inspire, "Each weekend I drop dead." He says this while lighting up a Lucky atop a snow-capped mountain, where he lies down as the snow gradually covers him up, but his plans are scuppered by rainfall melting his would-be tomb.
On the other hand, Hlynur's fantasy life is alive with passion and glimpses of his subconscious show us a deeply conflicted sense of self. Flashbacks of an alcoholic father mix with sexual fantasies of the lovely Lola but quickly reveal that mom's in bed, too. During a quick trip to the suburbs for a dinner with extended family, Hlynur, so comically disturbed by the mundane family ritual (they actually gather to watch a video of last year's family dinner), imagines a bloodbath scene killing everyone at close range with a shotgun. When brought back to reality, Hlynur's blank slate and effortless personality come back into the fore: "I was thinking what a nice couch you have," he explains to the previously slaughtered family. He salvages the suburban trip with a Salinger-esque gesture, subversively letting his little cousin light and smoke a cigarette which symbolically is an attempt to light his inner self.
The film progresses as Hlynur comes to terms with his mother's love for Lola and his own feelings of inadequacy with her. The announcement that Lola is pregnant pushes him to the brink, making living under the same roof next to impossible for all three, but after a lot of acting out and flippant commentary Hlynur begins to see life little differently. The infant's arrival also symbolically coincides neatly with Hlynur's homecoming to the world outside his bedroom and a newfound contentedness
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