28/06/2024 - As her film screens at Karlovy Vary as part of EFP’s Future Frames, we talked to the Icelandic director about the importance of caring for the older generation

In Who Stands Up for Alvar?, an overworked nurse finds that her next-door neighbour – who cannot take care of himself – refuses help from anyone. How much can she give of herself when the person she’s trying to help doesn’t want it?

Eschewing the dark genre tropes of social realism to create a fresh look at an important subject, the short is the work of Anna Maria Jóakimsdóttir-Hutri, who has worked as a film and theatre director, as well as a scriptwriter in film, TV and theatre in Finland, and has also graduated both from Aalto University and from Uniarts Helsinki. Cineuropa talked to the director in the lead-up to the film screening as part of EFP’s Future Frames at the 58th edition of the Karlovy Vary IFF (see the news).

Cineuropa: From the outside, the film seems to be very personal. What was your inspiration?
Anna Maria Jóakimsdóttir-Hutri: I lived in Stockholm some years ago, and one ordinary morning while standing on the balcony, I saw a huge plume of dark smoke coming out of one of my neighbour’s windows. Realising the urgency, I rushed towards that neighbour’s door. I entered a smoke-filled room with morning television blasting out. Towards me came a brittle, skinny man dressed in pyjamas, who looked malnourished and weakened by some serious physical condition. He was grumpy and asked me to leave him alone and go away. The fire was extinguished, the bed was tossed out, and the man’s apartment was left in turmoil.

The next day, I saw the old man being taken back home in a taxi, so I went to ask how he was. He was defensive and said, “There hasn’t been a fire here – go away and mind your own business. Don’t poke around!” My moral compass just wouldn’t leave the fate of my fellow human being alone. So, I started calling around the municipality to ensure the man would get the help he needed. It was not an easy task, as I wasn’t family, but eventually, he got a bed to sleep on, although I felt he may have needed to be in a care-home facility to be taken care of properly. My neighbour died shortly thereafter, alone in his apartment.

I went there to help clean out his things. The strange thing was that I was struck with such a striking back pain that I couldn’t continue. I could hear his last words pounding in my head: “Don’t poke around.” The back pain continued the next day, so I went into his flat in another way. I called on him, or rather called on his spirit, and asked for permission to enter, and I found a candle, a portrait and small pocket icon that was tucked into the chest pocket of his coat. I made a little shrine, sang a song to the dead man, and sat down in solitude and silence. Maybe what happened then was magic, or maybe it’s fully explainable by science, but… Like lukewarm water poured along my spine, the back pain went away.

Visually, how important was it for you to balance the elements of light and dark that there are in the film?
I was sure that a lot of elderly care personnel and politicians would check out the film, so I didn’t want to make it in a stereotypical “tone” of social-realistic “one thousand shades of beige”, and nor did I think they deserve the “intellectual aspect” that a black-and-white film would have had.

I really feel the story is important to us as a society. How we treat the elderly is a measure of the health of a society. Forced loneliness or the neglect of elderly care personnel and their working conditions are signs of a society in decline, so we need to talk about it.

In this case, it doesn’t really matter if the film is beige, black and white, or my choice of splashy colourfulness – although personally, I think elderly care deserves some colourfulness and some heroic compositions, not to mention the glamour of red carpets that should actually be rolled out in front of every elderly care home and under the feet of the home-visit people who loyally carry out their responsibilities.

What convinced you that Birthe Wingren was perfect as your film’s central protagonist?
Wingren is one of Finland’s most interesting cinematic actresses, and she’s lived in Sweden for a couple of years. She has a sensitivity when it comes to working out the scenes, the situations and the dialogue together with the co-actors, which is beautiful to experience. Birthe’s language adds an interesting dimension to the main character, suggesting a broader segment of “multi-culturalness” to the story. It’s something that is important, as a high percentage of workers within elderly care are of a multi-cultural origin.

What projects have you got coming up next?
The first one is a feature about a disbanded 1990s group from Gothenburg, and the other one is an elderly-care action-comedy. I also have a story about an Iranian girl who starts a disco for her friends, but she gets exposed and has to flee.