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Nói Albinó review
:. Director: Dagur Kari
:. Starring: Tomas Lemarquis, Elin Hansdottir
:. Running Time: 1:33
:. Year: 2003
:. Country: Iceland
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There is an undeniable pole of creativity emerging from the cold coast of Iceland. From music (Sigur Ros, Björk) to films—here, with Nói Albinó—, the works from Icelandic artists are surprisingly rich in fluidity and built with precise artistry, creating a voice of their own on the world cultural map. One might wonder about the source of such a boiling river and one plausible possibility might be the absence of daylight and sun, which would force these creatures of darkness to remain inside their homes, with no other choice than confronting their inner creative impulses to kill time; a theory that would also explain one of the greatest mysteries of modern time, the artistic aridity that is affecting most studios in sunny Los Angeles.
Nói (Tómas Lemarquis) is a teenager residing in a small fishing port. His body is long, thin, his head shaved, which combined with his rebel behavior make him some sort of alien, a misfit in this hibernating town. The son of a alcoholic cab driver, he lives with his grandma, but his relationship with his loved ones is emotionally remote; each of the family members seems to be disconnected, buried in their own solitude and carrying the scars of an unhappy life. Nói skips school to hang out in the darkness of his basement—we never really know what he is doing in there but it seems to officiate as a shelter from a world he doesn't feel he belongs to and that ultimately will save his life. We get hints that he is some kind of wunderkid, a genius prisoner of banality and boredom and when he meets a new girl in town, he suddenly dares to dream of a better life.
Director Fagur Kári closes the film with an unexpected event, a disaster that will provide Nói with an exit, forcing him to finally go after this world he's been dreaming about. There is however something cryptic in this conclusion. As the names of the victims are announced on TV, we can't help noticing that his whole personal universe has been swallowed by the catastrophe. It looks like fate destroyed everything around him to push him to leave, and will probably fully exploit his huge intellectual potential. The film seems to imply that Nói was the black sheep of the town, a presence with a dark influence, kind of like these Twin Peaks characters that would unknowingly be inhabited by the infamous Bob. The film also shows that in these untamed lands, man is still at the mercy of nature and not the master of his own destiny.
Nói's desire for a better life was born of a gift he got from his grandma, a gadget with pictures of Hawaiian beaches and locals. At first simple, this will work as a catalyst for the character; a process reminiscent of Brian de Palma's Carlito's Way but that ismade concrete this time.
Bathed in a saturated bleaching light, scarce in dialogue and advancing slowly, Nói Albinó is a meticulously crafted dreamlike world, injected with highly precise doses of oddity, poetry and humor. Supported by a flawless cast—Lemarquis particularly, the director works like an alchemist, building his film around characters and atmosphere, and never heavy-handed, which allows him to avoid the trap of pretentious art filmmaking—see Every Stewardess Goes To Heaven as an example in a similar setting. His influences are obvious, the works of Jim Jarmush and Wim Wenders come to mind, but the success of his film lies in his capacity to have created a personal and haunting universe of his own, somewhere in some uncharted cinematographic territories.
Fred Thom
 Movie Reviews: European Films
Reviews 2012 - present
Reviews 1998 - 2012
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