Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson
Children Of Nature

Low clouds, a sky shrouded in a thick blanket of ash white that conceals the sun for entire seasons; and then endless stretches as far as the eye can see, beds of water, and austere massifs rising on sinuous Celadon-painted carpets. Lands that bear witness to the grandeur of ancient pagan civilizations are the backdrop for the events described by director Fridrik Thor Fridriksson in "Börn náttúrunnar" from 1991. Resignation and hope, inevitable vicissitudes clash with the impulse to change the state of affairs in the lives of ordinary people, in the lives of Thorgeir and Stella, an elderly couple in their eighties who allow themselves one last intense surge of existence in the cold, hyperborean Iceland. Timid glimpses of a simple world, of that past we unwisely condemned, hoping for a rosy, rewarding future, and now it inflicts upon us a feeling of urgent lack.

In the chessboard of life, masterfully captured by Fridriksson's camera, the determination and tenacity of the characters prevail, the doing rather than the being, a good reason that makes existence worthwhile. Even Hilmarsson had his raison d'être in that now distant 1991, creating an incredible acoustic tapestry on the suggestive sequences of the feature film, a work that earned him the award for best soundtrack at the European Film Awards. Hilmarsson, a son of the same land as Thorgeir and Stella, knows perfectly well the social context described, the heritage of customs and traditions linked to paganism that still today has deep roots in the cultural fabric of the lands of Naddoddr’s descendants. The neoclassical neofolk style of the talented composer, also remarkable in the previous "Island" (1990) with Current 93, is the breathtaking path that oscillates and balances in the sad and melancholic themes of the film.

Poignant violin caresses (alternating between Szymon Kuran and Joolie Wood on the instrument) and the supreme cello of Stefán Örn Arnarson lead the intoxicated listener into the bowels of the "Land of Ice," into its profound morphological mysteries, an ideal sound representation of the tempered and introverted nature of Icelanders and of a land that shapes its inhabitants in its image. The dominant theme that emerges from the musical areas is the solitude of the soul, reinforced by the extraordinary snapshots of vast uninhabited territories beaten by the cold wind from the north. The sparse dialogues also steer in this direction, inviting the listener/viewer to let themselves be carried away by the tracks accompanying the film's scenes. The tapestry woven by Hilmarsson is breathtaking. It blends and merges with the heavy air of the footage, with the leaden horizons over the clearings, with the raw and dramatic seriousness of the subjects, a natural and indissoluble offshoot that resonates from faraway places, of ordinary people who, despite everything, live, move, and love.
Beyond the waxen glances.
Beyond the boundaries of the soul.
In the ancestral sound of nature.