“The Swan”ย is a wonderfully understated coming of age story.
Young Sแฝนl (a startingly stupendous young performer by the name of Grรญma Valsdรณttir) is something of a โproblem childโ at home, and so is sent away by her parents to live and work with her distant relatives โ the Farmer (Ingvar Eggert Sigurรฐsson) and the Farmerโs Wife (Katla M. รorgeirsdรณttir) โ in the Icelandic countryside. Once she arrives, the Farmer quickly puts her work. Needless to say, Sแฝนl isnโt happy about it. (The first thing Sแฝนl does is construct a lie about her father leaving her mother, and therefore she needs to go back home.)
Practically as soon as sheโs given the chance to settle in, a new stranger shows up: Jแฝนn (Thor Kristjansson), a farmhand who comes to help the family every. The two outsiders quickly discover that they have something in common: they both prefer words โ stories โ to people. Every night, Jแฝนn scribbles his thoughts away in his notebook, much like Sแฝนl is constantly reinterpreting the world around her through her storytelling. And so, they bond.
But before long, the Farmerโs/Farmerโs Wifeโs daughter, รsta (รurรญรฐur Blรฆr Jรณhannsdรณttir) unexpectedly comes home from university. It fast becomes clear that thereโs a history between the daughter and the farmhand, and Sแฝนl becomes entangled in their drama.
The Swan is a classic coming of age story if that wasnโt clear already. The refrain many artistically-inclined young people (like Sแฝนl) grow up hearing is โhard work builds character.โ Maybe so, but the hard work isnโt what forces Sแฝนl to grow up: itโs being thrown into an adult world courtesy of Jแฝนn and รsta, their relationship and its implications being beyond the comprehension of a nine-year-old.
The Swan is the kind of low-key, slow-burn indie drama that can turn out to be mesmerizing and poignant or pretentious and insufferable. Luckily, we have on our hands the former. It takes a keen directorial eye and a firm grasp of the craft to convey meaning and emotion in languid shots of countryside and pastoral happenings (of which there are many) without them coming across as hollow substitutes for tone and theme.
The film would be an achievement for a director of any experience, but itโs doubly so for being the first feature of writer/director รsa Helga Hjรถrleifsdรณttir. She imbues every frame with such rich emotional subtext and captures every subtlety of the performances. I donโt speak Icelandic. When watching foreign-language films, itโs sometimes hard to make a judgment call on the quality of the acting; but that wasnโt the case here. Young Grรญma Valsdรณttir, at only 12, speaks volumes with only the look in her eyes.
The Swan beautifully and honestly captures a major turning point of childhood. The storytelling is exquisite in its own, understated way. We view the story from Sแฝนlโs perspective. We catch glimpses of the central conflict between Jแฝนn and รsta but never quite get the whole story, just what she gleans from overhearing a conversation here, seeing something she wasnโt supposed to there. Is the narrative technically โcohesive?โ No. But itโs not supposed to be. The best way I can think to describe the film is that in being incohesive it is cohesive.
In a way, the film is sort of like a memory in retrospect. I know I, like Sแฝนl, had those moments in my life where things irrevocably changed, whether it was due to something new I learned, a major shake-up in my worldview due to some sort of event, or something else entirely. But the memories of those times arenโt always clear. Theyโre fragmented, stitched together from what I experienced at the time and the context I was later able to apply. And thatโs what it felt like to experience The Swan. It was like listening to someone recount a summer many years ago that set them on the course to being who they are today. Which, if you ask me, is an effect that is stunning. And, unfortunately, all too rare.
Release Date: August 10, 2018 – New York – Village East Cinema
August 17, 2018ย – Los Angeles – Laemmle Royal
