Like The Eight Mountains (No. 11 on this year's UK list/No. 12 on the US list), Godland is based on the construction of a wilderness retreat – this time a 19th-century church on the Icelandic coast. In contrast to its spiritual brother in the 2023 film program, nature here is not a consolation, but rather an Old Testament chastisement in waiting for man's ambition and hubris. There's a lot more frightening Herzogian immensity and exhortation here than the homely cosiness and mood of John Ford. Director Hlynur Pálmason doesn't let himself off the hook either: considering that Lucas, the Danish priest tasked with setting up a parish, As a photographer, the value of art in mediating between people and nature is also put to the test.
Shot with terse majesty in a boxy 4:3 ratio to mimic early photography, beauty should be the only consolation here. The film was, as the original title states, inspired by seven wet plate photographs found in a box, apparently taken by a real Danish priest. Black sand beaches, boulder-filled ravines, moors, volcanic clouds glowing darkly like Mordor on the horizon – how could we not be as fascinated by these elemental vistas as Lucas was? But as his cross-country trek progresses, the beauty becomes overwhelming, phantasmagoric, reminiscent of the hostility expressed by his Icelandic companions, and a sign of the inconsequence of his plans. (Played by Elliott Crosset Hove, he joins the annals of miserable priests.)
It is a reminder that we need given our climate-stricken times. The Western – of which Godland is a tundra version – always plays on the boundaries of the relationship between man and nature. But Pálmason increases the dynamics and keeps the aperture open to better capture the landscape. You wouldn't bet money on someone coming out on top or contributing a lot of value. That wet plate photography thing? It's a lie made up by the director. Neither art nor religion nor any other framework created by man can contain the merciless nature that also dominates us. Lucas's guide Ragnar – an intimidating portrayal by Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson – is affected by this harsh environment, but eventually begs the priest for assistance. Unrelated to.
Pálmason was born in Iceland and studied film in Denmark. He also deals with the relationship between the two countries. Godland is set in the time when the island was a Danish dependency. And there's a touch of dogmatic vindictiveness in the film's ongoing confrontation with its protagonist, which emanates not only from the characters but also from a higher power that is after a job-like sport with mortals. At least the director/God still has that notoriously perverse sense of humor when nature as a divine gift is now off the table. There have been several good recent films from ecologically sensitive Iceland about man's role in creation, such as Rams and Lamb. But Godland is great.