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The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 5 — 2015
So because of ‘Lost Weekend’s success, you could convince people to invest in ‘Nói Albínói’ and have faith in you to make it? Indeed, it was a major turning point, paving the way for various opportunities, enabling me to meet and get to know all kinds of people who then helped me realize ‘Nói Albínói’. The source material for Nói was something I’d carried around since I was sixteen... I already had a load of scenes and situations, so when I knew I had a real shot at making it, completing the script didn’t take long. Wait, you started writing ‘Nói Albínói’ at age sixteen? Just this character, Nói. He’d been with me for years. He was kind of a fantasy figure, a bit of an alter ego... well, not an alter ego, rather the opposite of myself, the opposite of who I was in my junior college years, at least. There were a lot of things I wanted to do at the time, or wished I could do, but didn’t have the courage to, so I relegated certain sides of myself into this character I called Nói. He predates any ideas I had of being a filmmaker—he could have turned into anything; a comic strip, a cartoon or a short story... Little by little, I amassed a bunch of situations and events connected to this character that I then used for the script. So it’s a very personal film? Yes, it’s a kind of a testament to what was going on in my head at that time, growing up and beyond.
The film gods ‘Nói’ was filmed in the northern Westfjords, where I hail from, in Ísafjörður and Bolungarvík. Watching the film, I felt few
works of art better describe what it feels to grow up on the edge of nowhere. Was the location important to the film? Yes. The isolation was important, and that feeling that you’re on the edge of the world. And all that snow. It was very important for the film, that everything be covered in snow. I actually had no experience of small towns like that prior to making ‘Nói’. In fact, I had never been to the Westfjords before we filmed it. It was pure luck that we wound up there. We filmed it over one of those rare Icelandic winters where it barely snows at all. So we sort of made a bet, we counted on that if it would snow anywhere, it would be in the Westfjords. We made our decision to shoot there based solely on that assumption.
for the two weeks we were shooting the outdoor scenes. And that was the only snow we had in Iceland that winter. In a way, it felt meant to be. I felt it was so nice how respectfully you depicted the small towns and its people, it steered clear of that grotesque, skewed image you’ll often come across when filmmakers tackle smalltown Iceland. Very human. That’s maybe something that’s recurring in your art, this kind of respect or care for humans. Are you into people like that? I quite enjoy studying people. The components that make up a character. I can’t deny it.
Falling in love with Gussi
And then it turned out to fit so well... So ‘Nói Albínói’ was about Nói, We showed up and I instantly fell for the this fantasy side to yourself. place. For the fjords and... it was kind of Then, ‘Fúsi’ is also named after like it had been writits main character. ten specifically for that We’ll make some However, he’s far environment. Down to horrible middleremoved from Nói. specific locations that Does he perhaps aged record when the script described represent a different in detail, and I didn’t we’re pushing fifty, side to you? How did envision ever coming I’m sure. Something he come to be? across.... I thought we’d The making of Fúsi, the totally dated and have to build some of character, was a process them in a studio. And hopeless. that’s both complicated then, we repeatedly and simple. It started just... encountered them. It happened with me falling in love with Gussi [actime and time again, we would just walk tor Gunnar Jónsson] when I saw him in right into the world that I had written. [celebrated Icelandic skit show] ‘FóstIt really felt like the film gods were bræður’. I immediately had the sense on our team for that one. Indeed, it that he was a total genius—he has this hadn’t snowed at all in the Westfjords on-screen presence that’s just completethat winter, so we were sort of blindly ly unique. stepping into it. We just booked a camSo, I fantasized about seeing him era crew and hoped for the best. The in something beyond just serving as a day we landed in Ísafjörður, it started sidekick in a comedy show, I wanted to snowing and it kept snowing constantly see him doing a massive leading role in
a dramatic film. This has been on my mind for years. In the meanwhile, after Nói, I made films in Denmark and New York. After the latter, ‘The Good Heart’, I kind of burned out for a while. I just lost all desire to make movies. I was planning to do something else. While attempting to explore different avenues, I found myself in Keflavík, waiting for a plane. And I’m sort of looking out the window, and I see these small vehicles skirting around the airplanes, bringing the luggage or whatever. They have these tiny cars that kind of look like toy cars, and in my mind an image just pops out, Gussi riding one of those. And that becomes the core metaphor for the film, the story of an adult that hasn’t quite cut the umbilical cord and left the world of childhood. As I awaited the plane, a simple version of the story lined up in my mind. So you could say it just came to me. But, then, it’s complicated, because a character or a story doesn’t just come from one direction. For me, they are an interplay of everything I’ve thought and pondered for years, all kinds of ideas I’ve had aligning and turning into something new. You assume many roles as a filmmaker, from writing the script and then directing it, to creating the score. You’re basically realizing an idea that starts off in your head, bringing it to life... Well, directors are very different, but for me it’s always been about the whole package. What drew me to film in the first place was how the art form combines everything I’m interested in. For me, the screenwriting process is just as important as... you know, the shooting, and then the editing... and then, making the music. They all form equal parts of the whole. Scoring the films is actually one of
my favourite things about the process, it’s kind of like enjoying dessert after a good meal. Everything’s ready, but you can sort of use the music to amplify emotions and moods that are already present. The film is basically ready, the stress is over, and you get to play around with it and have some fun. You make the music with your partner Orri from Slowblow, right? So what, do you two just sit down with some guitars and beer and roll the film through, jamming over it? No. We work separately, we never write together. I usually start writing while I’m in the editing process, I think it’s fun to do those two together, so the music can also affect how I edit the movie. We’re not making music for a film that’s been locked, we sort of meld our tunes to the film. That seems like a fun process. Do you think you’ll make more records as Slowblow? Well, we haven’t made pop music in more than a decade. We’ve just made film music, mainly for my movies, but also for a few other projects. Sitting down with the intent of writing verses and choruses has been a distant idea. But it’ll probably come back at some point. We’ll make some horrible middleaged record when we’re pushing fifty, I’m sure. Something totally dated and hopeless. I’m certain it will happen.
Emotional Are you saying old people can’t make good music? Is that different with film? No, I don’t think so. I’ve often thought about it. You know, considering how powerful a medium pop music is, it’s