Icelandic helmer Hlynur Pálmason’s third Cannes entry, The Love That Remains [+leggi anche:
trailer
intervista: Hlynur Pálmason
scheda film], has opened in the Cannes Première section of the 78th Cannes Film Festival. This year’s offering initially plays out like a tender Mike Leigh-type story – but only initially.

We are introduced to visual artist Anna (Saga Garðarsdóttir) and fisherman Magnús (Icelandic-born Swedish actor Sverrir Gudnason, in his first Icelandic-language part since childhood). Anna and “Maggi” have three children, Ída, Grímur and Þorgils (played by Pálmason’s own kids, Ída, Grímur and Þorgils). Anna and Maggi have also recently separated but spend as much time together as possible, given Maggi’s seafaring tenures and the fact that they are no longer a couple. The story follows them over a year of four changing seasons.

As we get to know (and very much like) this family, we learn that Anna has just lost her studio, an old harbour warehouse torn down – on screen and intriguingly depicted – to make way for a more functional construction. Her preferred media are currently large canvases and huge metal templates, on which she produces artful, rust-coloured patterns. Business is slow, and a visit from a Swedish gallery owner (a hilariously bumptious Anders Mossling) proves unproductive. Maggi is clearly the breadwinner here but is also supportive of Anna’s creative ambitions, as is the whole family. The kids happily partake in the creative process, “embellishing” a knight-like scarecrow (or a scarecrow-like knight?) that’s materialised on Anna’s current creating turf – literally a piece of turf that her father has provided. The “knight” in question will later lend additional character to the plot.

The possible Mike Leigh-esque atmosphere of everyday life and intimate character snapshots is quite firmly established over the first few acts. Anna explores her new “studio”, Maggi tries to capture a troublemaking rooster in the hen yard, there are family outings with berry-picking and jam-making in the kitchen, bantering and giggling, and a lot of – need it be repeated? – gorgeous-looking Icelandic landscapes to gawp at. There are also a few heartfelt dives into the title chosen for the film. Anna and Maggi are no longer a couple: exactly why is never dealt with, and we don’t even know if it's final, but it probably is. That said, some things remain, including love – again, on screen and intriguingly depicted.

Gradually, and at times even a bit suddenly, some fantastical elements also materialise: a giant rooster entering Maggi’s bedroom, a fellow in a life vest floating around in the sea, and didn’t that gallery owner’s plane plummet right into the water a little earlier? As for that knight guy (girl?), what’s s/he doing in the kitchen? Could it be related to metaphors? Anna’s art works? Dreams? Any Mike Leigh is surely all gone by now. What’s crystal clear is that The Love That Remains is a film by Hlynur Pálmason, an Icelandic directorial force who will invite you into his home, and at times pull the rug from right under your feet. But never so that it hurts; quite the contrary, in fact.

The Love That Remains is an Icelandic-Danish-Swedish-French co-production staged by Still Vivid and Snowglobe, with co-production by HOBAB, Maneki Films, Film i Väst and ARTE France Cinema. Its world sales are overseen by New Europe Film Sales.