(2017; director: Sakaris Stórá; writer: Marjun Syderbø Kjelnæs; language: Faroese; co-production with Denmark; original title: Dreymar við havið)
Dreams by the Sea is the first ever truly Faroese feature film, shot entirely on location with predominantly local talent. It tells a simple story of adolescence in the isolated island territory. Teenage Ester (Juliet Nattestad), like Disney’s Belle and many other village girls before her, wants much more than her provincial life. When rebellious Ragna (Helena Heðinsdóttir) with her dysfunctional family moves to the island, Ester is instantly attracted and a friendship develops. Each provides what the other lacks – excitement for Ester, and stability for Ragna. Together, they dream of leaving the island and taking on the world.
Although culturally and linguistically discrete, the Faroe Islands are not currently a country in their own right (they’re an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark), meaning they don’t fit the criteria I set myself of watching a film from every UN-recognised soverign nation-state. But those criteria are mainly set for expediency, and I’m not going to pass up the chance to include films from self-governing nations only a referendum away from independence. Well, at least not when they cross my path, like when Dreams by the Sea turned up in my local film festival.
The film centres on 16-year-old Ester, bored by her mundane life in a small Faroese village by the ocean. Her mother, like all the mothers in the village, is an enthusiastic knitter (the film features plenty of examples of the gorgeous Faroese patterned jumpers made famous to foreigners through the Danish TV-series The Killing). Her father leads Sunday School prayer sessions and tinkers with model planes. Her former best friend landed a modelling contract and moved away, and Ester is sick with envy, stuck on the island with her boring life: “it’s like everything is set in stone, nothing ever changes.”
Enter Ragna, who instantly stands out with her thick black eyeliner and surly attitude. Ester is instantly drawn to Ragna’s difference and apparent independence, and starts following her around the island – to her work in a kiosk, and to her home in “the Shed”, the cheapest ramshackle accommodation on the island. Ragna is initially a bit weirded out, asking “are you stalking me?”, but eventually she accepts Ester’s friendship.
It becomes clear that Ragna’s independence and tough exterior has been formed over years of neglect by her alcoholic, unemployed and hard-partying mother (who is played with surprising pathos by an actress whose name I can’t find anywhere). For the naive Ester, even this is exciting new territory, and she enthusiastically embraces the world of alcohol and lack of parental oversight that Ragna is visibly tiring of. Ragna, on the other hand, longs for a stable father figure like Ester’s.
Although both discuss wanting to leave the island and make a life of their own, there is a difference in what each girl wants to leave behind. What Ester sees as freedom in Ragna’s life is its own form of confinement, with Ragna forced into caring for her mother and younger brother, and is less exciting than wearing and mundane in its own way. Each girl exoticises the other, Ester with a naked hunger and Ragna with a more mature, subdued wistfulness. As it turns out, Ragna does leave the island at the end of the film, but not under happy circumstances, nor her own steam. Her mother almost dies of an overdose, and Ragna is forced to seek other solutions for care of her younger brother, with her own future uncertain. Meanwhile Ester is left in her boring, stable, protected life, hopefully a little wiser as to where the grass is greener.
The film is entirely in Faroese, filmed on the island of Sandoy (population 1200) with a Faroese director, scriptwriter, stars and the majority of the crew, and has been celebrated as the start of a film industry in the islands. And it’s an astonishingly competent start, particularly given that only the editor (Amalie Westerlin Tjellesen) and the cinematographer (Virginie Surdej) had ever worked on a feature film before (both women, something you seldom see in e.g. Hollywood productions). The leads are excellent, with Helena Heðinsdóttir giving a mature and layered performance as Ragna and Juliet Nattestad offering one of the most honest portrayals of unabashed adolescent desire I have seen from a female perspective.
Some reviews have criticised the film’s pacing, with extended shots and sequences focusing on fairly mundane day to day interactions. While I agree that the film didn’t reach the level of drama that it perhaps aspired to, I don’t think that the pacing was a problem. Shot largely in a realist style, it is the everyday – both Ragna’s and Ester’s – that is the focus of the film. (One notable realist departure is that mobile phones are not to be seen. While I can understand the desire for a ‘timeless’ film that won’t be dated by incorporation of fast-evolving technology, this did seem a bit jarring given the ubiquity of phones in teen culture.)
In my view, the editing supports the cinematography, which is one of the strengths of the film. Together, they let scenes breathe, so the viewer can soak into the atmosphere – both physical and psychological. The opening shot is like a watercolour of grey clouds with land, green, barely visible. The viewer is instantly struck by the beauty of the place, but also a sense of having reached the end of civilisation. An early close-up on Ester’s mother’s hands, knitting, confirms this. Wide frames of beautiful but washed-out island scenery reinforce the sense of isolation while close ups and point of view shots put us in Ester’s head and emphasizes the intimacy between the girls.
Where I did feel that the film faltered a little was the writing. Marjun Syderbø Kjelnæs is a respected Faroese writer, with some young adult publications under her belt, so I don’t doubt she knows what she’s doing. But the story of a sheltered girl idolising and forming an intense friendship with a tougher peer with problems of her own is far from a new one, and it made it difficult to watch Dreams by the Sea without comparing it to texts that have done a little bit more with the idea (e.g. Jacqueline Wilson’s children’s novel Bad Girls or Metin Hüseyin’s film adaptation of Meera Syal’s Anita and Me).
A key issue is that there weren’t really any consequences for the characters as a result of the central friendship, unlike in e.g. Bad Girls and Anita and Me. Ragna’s mother’s overdose was not causally related (as far as I could tell) to their friendship, and I’m not sure if Ester did learn anything from Ragna’s experiences (when she looks longingly at Ragna leaving the island for the last time, is it her friend she misses or does she still wish she was in Ragna’s place?). Ragna just gets yet another opportunity for stability snatched from her.
Nor did the film really develop the sexual tension between the leads that seemed to be suggested. The camera’s framing of Ragna, coupled with Juliet Nattestad’s Ester looking at her like she wants to eat her with her eyes, added a level of ambiguity as to what it is Ester desires from her. The two were also fairly physical in their affection, and were often filmed in intimate settings. But here again I’m not sure if there actually was a lesbian subtext or if I was looking for it based on other films, such as Fucking Åmål (Show Me Love) or Heavenly Creatures, which also feature a stifled brunette becoming enamoured with a less supervised blonde and the attractions of a life beyond their unglamorous environs.
Like these two films, Dreams by the Sea includes a scene where the intimate and insular relationship between the girls is disrupted by a heterosexual experiment (which is also the only overtly sexual encounter in each film), where the young man is aligned with the parochial context the protagonists want to flee, and is therefore explicitly or implicitly found wanting. In the case of Dreams by the Sea, despite the visual beauty of a tryst by mirror-like lagoons in the blue-grey Nordic twilight, the boys involved are the local louts whose main topic of conversation is who had the biggest ram last year.
And yet Dreams by the Sea neither goes all in on the lesbianism, as in Fucking Åmål, where their newfound romantic relationship makes the boring town survivable for the protagonists, nor does it hint as strongly at lesbian desire as Heavenly Creatures, where it is a component of a dangerously intense relationship that results in violence. Both of these other films link a desire for something different with homosexual desire, and pursue the consequences of both to a point of significant change in the protagonist’s character and situation. In Dreams by the Sea, neither the nature nor the consequences of the two girls’ desire for one another is fully developed, which lessens its dramatic impact and makes me wonder what the lesbian subtext was doing there (if I didn’t imagine it in the first place).
On the other hand, a familiar and generic story with broad appeal is perhaps a good canvas for the first Faroese feature film, that is perhaps more about the country itself than Ester and Ragna. The two girls do work as handy symbols of the contradictions of Faroese life – insular, parochial and dull, or a haven of sorts for those at odds with the mainland. This universality and broad seems to be what director Stórá is going for, in his words:
“We all know either an Ester or a Ragna. They represent much of what we see in lots of people. They represent different sides of the Faroe Islands, and if we don’t recognise them, then it’s because we have been them ourselves.”
And, perhaps overt lesbianism is a bit much to expect from the first feature film in the Faroes, a highly Christian country that has traditionally not looked too favourably on homosexuals (although things are apparently changing).
Narrative discussions aside, one of the central pleasures the film offers for an international audience is the detailed portrayal of an isolated environment and culture. The gorgeous green islands against the salt-bleached colours of the cottages, and the cold grey and steel-blue of the sea and sky. The cry of the gulls and the gossip in knitting circles. The unusual amount of freckles, a legacy perhaps of the Celtic ancestry many Faroese have).
Director Stórá filmed in his hometown on Sandoy, promising a degree of authenticity that comes with familiarity. At a Q&A after the festival screening, the director said that the film offers a fairly honest portrayal of the island, particularly with regard to high degree of religiosity and the role that Christianity plays in the village. Even alcoholism and neglect, while not always discussed, is also not uncommon on the islands. Although, he joked, people sensibly never believe him when he claims that mobile phones haven’t made it to the Faroes.
And apparently it wasn’t only foreign audiences that enjoyed seeing the Faroes on film. According to Stórá, Faroese are among the top consumers of films (per capita) in the Nordic region, but had never had a Faroese feature to watch. Dreams by the Sea apparently sold more tickets in the Faroes than Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Based on the talent displayed in this first feature, I certainly wish the Faroes many more. Hopefully the recently established Faroese Film Institute will help the local industry to ride the momentum of Dreams by the Sea‘s achievements.