With his last feature Godland, Icelandic director Hylnur Pálmason showed the insignificance of human existence against grand, awe inspiring landscapes of the volcanic island nation. The Love That Remains follows the same vein, albeit less grandiose, but just as beautiful landscapes. The gentle comedy of a modern family follows a family of 4 where parents Magnus and Anna have recently separated. There is a teen daughter, Ida and younger twin boys. Magnus is a fisherman working in a commercial fishing vessel and Anna is a struggling artist. They live in a rural farm where they engage in foraging, tending farm animals while Anna practices a large scale art made out of rusting geometrically cut iron sheets- she just lays out these iron pieces on a white canvas outside the elements until they rust and leave patterns on the sheets.
Magnus is still carrying the torch for Anna and wants to be included in the family. He lingers and makes advances at Anna, but she won't budge. The kids notice their predicaments and are generally sympathetic to the situation. It is important to note that three children playing the parts are Pálmason's own kids, pretty much playing themselves.
What differentiates The Love That Remains from other sad sack, middle-aged loser dad pity party movies is the contrast of the surroundings which the family lives on: the nature is consistent, solid, fluid, omnipresent, and forever beautiful- whereas humans are lustful, violent and idiotic at times. The plane goes down, hit by a flock of birds, kids shoot each other with arrows by accident, a man dreams of making out with Joan of Arc. If Godland contrasted nature's indifference to human existence, The Love That Remains emphasizes that we live with nature and all our incongruities are part of the elements, not separate entities, nothing more. Pálmason humbles you in different ways in the presence of nature.
No comments:
Post a Comment