Nói Albinói

Probably the most depressing Icelandic movie that I’ve seen so for. It quite precisely captures the bleak Scandinavian mood. An Icelandic village on the edge of an island, where they have a gas station as well as a charlatan. The only person who doesn’t fit in is Noi, which is not surprising at all. Noi lives his life in seclusion only because he doesn’t understand many people in the Icelandic community and he doesn’t want to accept their way of life. With a bit of spoiler, let me add that you seldom get to see such a depressing movie with such a brutal twist at the end. Yeah, and Tómas Lemarquis and his portrayal of Noi is out of this world. (28.07.2015)

A Nordic film cookbook that works with simple and popular ingredients if you're into Arctic cuisine. This time the recipes included are really simple, can be handled by almost anyone, and work mainly with quality ingredients instead of complicated and long preparation. It is also not something for any distinction, but at least it is pleasantly satisfying for an evening and at least you feel a about yourself for not settling for some fast food out of convenience. In other words, the bleak and unchanging nature of an eternally snowy Icelandic hole from which there is no escape is reflected in the looks of everyone involved as the years go by. Who can blame Noi for wanting to get away from there, if possible to the other side of the globe. The funniest thing is the isolation of the town, which is surrounded on one side by a huge mountain and on the other by the roaring ocean crashing against the black rocks. Despite the provincial, nondescript aspects of the town, there are, for example, shops with nice clothing or a bank to complete the eternal damnation of the (un)happy inhabitants, who have no pragmatic reason to move away. In contrast to the ultimate diabolical conclusion (crowned with hostile ketchup), the film's peak of lack of comfort is the scene where the protagonist tries to rob a bank, but no one takes him seriously, so the manager takes his rifle and goes to finish his coffee in the office. Noi is furious, but eventually returns to at least withdraw money from his account. (27.11.2015)

A melancholy tale of misunderstanding, detachment and revolt going into a tough Icelandic black frost in a ruthless ending that clicks like a coffin lid. Kári's strongest film, minimalist, yet ornate in its details (textures and exteriors) and subtly escalated from lethargic wandering through Icelandic solitude to a great tragedy. Noi is one of the emblematic characters of Nordic film. Until the last few seconds, it was hard to think something certain about him, much like the eccentric assembly of his fellow citizens. At the same time, there is clearly a sketch of what is typical of the director in other films: the motif of an individual incompatible with the system, the main hero, who cannot distinguish ideas from reality, and a wondrous lovers couple. There is a complete lack of propensity for the obligatory mantras of independent film, which unnecessarily spoil Kári's simple language with false poses (especially in The Good Heart). Noi the Albino is a condensed version of what I like about Nordic cinema. The more closed and cold everything is here, the more it affects me. (12.01.2011)