101 Reykjavik (2000)

101 Reykjavik is without a doubt the single best Icelandic film I've ever seen. To be honest, I've seen very few Icelandic films, which was why I decided to watch this one. I realized at some point that I hadn't seen much of this small nation's cinematic output, so I decided to look up a list of its films and this one sounded intriguing. I watched it and I was not disappointed.The story itself is not as unique or original as I had expected based on the synopsis I had read. It also was not as dark as I thought it would be. However, it was still funny and original enough to keep me entertained. I almost described the lead character as an antihero, but even that label is too nice. He's not a hero in any sense of the word. He's not a lovable loser, because he's not lovable. He's selfish and he's more of a villain, but that doesn't mean we don't care enough to watch him and see what happens. And as I young man, I was able to relate to him from time to time and see my own flaws reflected in his. But I didn't find myself hoping that everything worked out well for him.My favorite part of the film is near the end, when our lead character—after spending most of the film trying to figure out what's causing his problems and making excuses for his selfish and lazy behavior—comes to the grand realization that his flaws are the result of his parents' seemingly unrelated flaws. He states that he is merely the flightless offspring of two birds that were never meant to mate.Another highlight was the lead character's apartment, which he shares with his mother and, later, her female friend. They have a bathtub/shower that is located in the open dining area and which, when not in use, converts into a bench for people to sit on. There a couple of really fun scenes featuring this strange contraption.Overall, I enjoyed this film very much and would compare it to the movie Garden State. The story is quite different, but the overall feeling I got from it is similar. It makes me want to see more of the films that Iceland has to offer.

Presently, Iceland is not a major player in the international film circuit - the Icelandic Film Centre website proudly (/adorably) proclaims that they now have "over one hundred!" feature films released. However, if 101 Reykjavík (so named, we can only assume, for being the country's first post-centennial film) is any indication, it's quite worth tracking down those other 100 as well. For a film that casually positions itself as encapsulating the spirit of its nation, 101 Reykjavík is, in many ways exactly the remediation of stereotypes you'd expect from an Icelandic film: it's thoroughly odd, bleak, and full of isolating grandeur. And yet, debut director Baltasar Kormákur navigates expectations with a cheeky confidence and sharp, quirky sense of self-effacing humour that you can't help but love it so, even amidst the inevitable double-takes at the bizarro twists and turns it throws your way with cheerful nonchalance. Here's a prime example of how genre can be deceptive: the film is a romantic comedy revolving around an immature man-child afraid of commitment. If that sentence alone is enough to make you retch and run the other way, you're not alone. However, somehow, tossing these tropes into the icy winds of Reykjavík is enough to strip and scatter every whiff of cliché like so much powder snow. There's something utterly disarming about Kormákur's cheerily matter-of-fact approach to circumstances and character beats that would be abhorrent to traditional Hollywood audiences that somehow takes the sting out and makes them irreverent and silly instead of the stuff of major studio nightmares. What sort of 'circumstances' are we talking about here? Well, you'd be remiss to expect a traditional, straightforward Hollywood 'rom-com' from the country that created an ancestry smartphone app to avoid incest in bar hookups* (and you can only imagine the field day Kormákur would have with that). As such, our belligerent man-child's misadventures fumble past pregnancy, speed dating calibre hookup swapping, the experience of coming out in a claustrophobic community (as one character eagerly exclaims, "A REAL LIFE lesbian? What's it like??"), and, yes, incest. Kind of. And yet, they all weave unobtrusively into the grain of the film with such wide-eyed indifference, it's almost a heartier laugh than the film's snappier punchlines, of which there are many. Just check out Kormákur's depiction of the excruciating, claustrophobic dullness of an extended family dinner - we laugh because it saves us from shuddering in painful solidarity. Naturally, Kormákur's skews firmly for satire rather than neorealism here (thank goodness), but this is not to say his film is merely silly and superfluous. Here and there, amidst the goofiness, the film surges with genuine passion - pride for its beautiful, barren landscapes, captured in gorgeous panoramic crane and aerial shots here, and frustration for the boredom and aimlessness which consumes all too many of its inhabitants. It's for this reason, protagonist Hlynur (perfectly charming Hilmir Snær Guðnason, who skulks around like a wry, hipster Crispin Glover) isn't that easy to write off, in spite of his infuriating belligerence in the face of employment, romantic partnership, responsibility… hell, adulthood as a whole. We know he's still suffering the aftershocks of an ambiguously tragic childhood, but his perennial smug selfishness burns through any accrued sympathy. And yet, in his poetically grim voice-over interludes, Hlynur seems to diagnose himself as a product of the deep stagnation and hopelessness of his environment. He's not as badly off as many of the substance-abusive or infected sex-maniacs who whirl around him, but, in his own words, he's so pleasantly, functionally depressed he considers life only a fleeting break from death. Eat your heart out, Ingmar Bergman. There are bright spots, assuredly - the wildly effervescent Victoria Abril's visiting Flamenco teacher, Lola, for example, who lights up the film every time she flits through it. However, time shows that even they are usually as amorally tainted as the rest of the snowy wasteland surrounding them. Not "bad", though, as Hlynur's sole moment of introspection crucially expresses - every person, scenario, and facet of life is both good and bad, and must be accepted as is.It's a resonant moral in a film full of little, universal truths, all wrapped up in a deceptively mesmerizing, surprisingly catchy soundtrack of Icelandic electro, mostly remixes of the classic The Kinks tune "Lola". 101 Reykjavík is thoroughly fresh, sharp, hugely funny, and soulfully mournful, yet bundled together with such quirky charm you would pinch the film's cheeks if the film had cheeks to pinch. It may not be the most obvious pick for Friday night viewing for non-Icelandic viewers. But it could just scratch all of those originality itches you didn't even know you had. -8/10 *Yes, really. It's called Íslendingabók (translated as "The Book of Icelanders"). Its tagline is "Bump in the app before you bump in bed". If you find this as hilarious and awesome as you should, you will thoroughly enjoy this film.

The story of 101 Reykjavik follows Hlynur, a young man in his mid-thirties who lives with his mother. Hlynur enjoys spending his days (and unemployment checks) drinking, watching porn, smoking, and web surfing. He occasionally has sex with Hofy, a girl he regularly sees at the club he frequents, but resists having more than a physical relationship with her. He has several friends he goes to the pub with but his closest relationship is with his mother. At the beginning of the film, Hlynur is content to watch life on a television or computer screen and live in close quarters with his mother. When asked what he does Hlynur replies he does nothing, "the nothing kind of nothing". He detests his extended family and finds their company so mundane that he has fantasies of killing them with a shotgun. However, his routine is upended when his mother's dance instructor, Lola, moves in with them for the holidays. Hlynur is attracted to her and invites her out to an evening with friends. Lola enjoys going out and drinking even more than Hlynur does and leaves the bar with another woman. On New Year's Eve Hlynur finds out that Lola is a lesbian but, despite this insight, he sleeps with her. Complications arise when Hlynur discovers that his mother is in a lesbian relationship with Lola and that Lola is pregnant with his baby. 101 Reykjavik employs clever film techniques to tell the story of an isolated young man and his journey to take an active role in life; a story that could be used as a metaphor for larger situations. Watching Hlynur step out of his isolated world and into reality is part of what makes 101 Reykjavik an enjoyable film. As the movie progresses, Hlynur is less and less content to continue his aloof lifestyle and becomes more and more engaged with the world around him. The transition is not smooth. Hlynur enjoys his isolation, commenting with relief at a club that it was too noisy to talk and too busy to dance thus providing a barrier to anything potentially engaging or intimate. Lola becomes a major force in Hlynur's life, pulling him out of his self-imposed isolation. This is represented when she makes him watch the fireworks from the balcony and not on the TV regardless of his protests that "they actually look better on a screen". Despite his blasé attitude towards commitment he is genuinely upset when Lola becomes pregnant but does not reveal he is the father and describes the father as a 'donor'. While Hlynur readily accepts his mother for who she is, he has trouble accepting that she will raise his baby and becomes very emotionally conflicted. He tries to reconcile his newfound feelings with his isolated world but the audience can see he is struggling when he attends a party and ends up watching two people have sex. For Hlynur, an avid porn watcher, this could be seen as progress into the real world because watching real sex does not involve the isolation of watching it on a screen. At the end of the movie we see that Hlynur is an active part of his child's life and has a job checking parking meters, proving that Hlynur has started participating in life and even taking on some responsibility. Several film techniques are employed to include the audience in Hlynur's isolated world and his journey to becoming an active participant in life. Voice overs are a film technique employed to give insight into Hlynur's thoughts and feelings. Hlynur's thoughts track his character change. At the beginning of the film, Hlynur voices his complaint that they don't show porn in the morning. Whereas at the end of the film, Hlynur describes himself as a harmless flightless bird, his inner voice shows that his thoughts have gotten deeper and more self-exploratory. His voice emphasizes his struggle to take more control over his life and become more active. Crane shots of Hlynur trudging through the mountainous Icelandic landscape are also used to convey his isolation as they sweep over the deserted land. These shots give an idea how vastly isolated and, especially at the end of the film, how lonely Hlynur's life is.Despite the films clear comedic undertones, 101 Reykjavik is a good metaphor for change coming to a small nation like Iceland. Iceland is an isolated country and, like Hlynur, may not completely engage the rest of the world. One of the major changes in Hlynur's life is the revelation of his mother's sexual preferences. Hlynur accepts his mother and notes how social views in Iceland are changing by describing how 'the lesbian is new to Iceland' thus describing how his story could be transcended to the national level. 101 Reykjavik is a good model for change in a small isolated country and how people deal with that change and engage with the greater world as a whole. 101 Reykjavik artfully tells the story of an isolated young man becoming more engaged in life as a message that is universally understood. The film employs techniques such as voice overs and crane shots to convey the isolation that Hlynur feels and his struggle to become fully participating in his world. Many understand Hlynur's struggle to take control of his life and will be able to relate to him and enjoy 101 Reykjavik.

I've heard Iceland called "The Tahiti of the North Atlantic" with reference to a history of sexually loose behavior that goes well back to an era predating the "sexual revolution" in the United States, and I believe Halldor Laxness, Iceland's Nobel Prize-winning author, has a book or two along similar lines, featuring some sexually outrageous situation which is treated rather matter-of-factly, even light-heartedly, by the participants and all around them.The gentle fun in this film is of a piece with its very charming and amusing opening titles: We see, looking up at him, the hero, intent on performing rhythmic intercourse, with his glasses on; the girl whose charms he is enjoying reaches up to remove his glasses, and view her Romeo's eyes unobstructed; and we then see both the lady--and the titles--fading in and out of a serious blur as the hero continues his push-ups without his necessary spectacles.The comedy is about this young man of 30, who is a bit of a ne'er-do-well and good-for-nothing, who lazily collects welfare, lives with his working mother (his drunken bum of a father stumbles into him on the street from time to time), and how very strange developments in his mother's sex life lead to him finally becoming a man, earning a living, and being a "fine upstanding citizen" even as he takes on a semi-incestuous role in his mother's life, a role which would shock and horrify most Western viewers if the story were told a bit differently.It's a pretty, colorful film, very nicely acted, and captures very well the peculiar, quiet atmosphere of Iceland's capital. The film draws me into intimacy with its characters at once, and won me over immediately with its very low-key, simple, and very subtle humor.Icelanders number less than 300,000, and so are required to demonstrate competence in at least four major world languages in order to graduate from high school. Consequently, nearly all Icelanders under a certain age speak English very fluently. Since one of the major characters is a Spanish immigrant, characters all switch to English when they need to speak to her, and so many scenes are entirely in English that I would call the film bilingual.It's a very simple comedy, but although the sexual behavior of its main characters is most certainly racy, and the language very frank, I didn't find the film the least bit vulgar or crude, and, instead, found its humor pleasant, subtle, and engaging.My impression of Icelanders, when I visited there many years ago, was that they could be almost painfully shy people--and in a way, this is a SHY comedy about a very BRAZEN situation.I think it's WELL worth seeing and enjoying, and I would happily sit through it to enjoy it again.