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| When The Light Breaks |
In Icelandic director Rúnar Rúnarsson's sensitive drama When The Light Breaks, Icelandic singer and artist Elín Hall gives a captivating performance as Una, a young woman weighed down with guilt.
The film opens with Una and fellow punk bandmate Diddi (Baldur Einarsson) in bed, the early morning sun streaming in through the window. Their trysts are a secret because Diddi is seeing someone else, but today, he plans to travel to his hometown and break up with Klara (Katla Njálsdóttir). When he's tragically killed in a road accident, Una's hopes for the future are shattered. Over the course of a long summer's day, she has to grieve Diddi as a lover in secret among their friends and Klara, who have come together to mourn their shared loss.
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| When The Light Breaks |
The multifaceted artist's output includes two solo albums, heyrist í mér? and Með Öðrum Orðum. She has also appeared in the Icelandic crime series Case, and plays the younger version of former Icelandic President Vigdís Finnbogadóttir in the miniseries Vigdís. Her film work includes Let Me Fall (Lof Mér Að Falla), which is based on real people and explores the subject of addiction, and It All Comes With The Cold Water, about a couple navigating the challenges of their fracturing relationship.
In conversation with Eye For Film, Hall discussed the creative search for truth and being a storyteller at heart. She also reflected on her refusal to grow up, finding emotion in the physicality of her performance, the need to tell stories about grief and the transformative experience of When The Light Breaks.
The following has been edited for clarity.
Paul Risker: Early on, were you aware that you'd take a creative path in life?
Elín Hall: I wasn't always aware of what I would end up doing; I still don't really know what I want to do when I grow up. As a kid, I was very creative, as most kids are. I went to an art university and a lot of the practices were just about finding the kid inside of you again, because we grow up and stop that type of play that is very natural to kids. And what's funny is, I don't think I ever expected this to turn into my job. Even as a teenager, I was constantly writing stories or music, but I always assumed that I would just grow up and grow out of it.
My parents are not artists, but they're artistic in nature — they're academics and that's very creative in a sense. So, I expected to follow their path, but the funny thing now, looking back, is realising that there was never a decision to step into becoming an artist. All the kids on my block were putting on plays and making their parents watch and were doing dance competitions or whatever it was. Most of them grew up and I didn't.
PR: When you're considering a film, are you drawn to the character first or is it a mix of character and story?
EH: The story comes first, and obviously the character as well. I was drawn to Una because of her isolating situation. For anyone who has experienced grief, they'll know it's isolating and a very private experience. It's not a comfortable subject, and having Una put in a situation in which she is truly alone in her grief, but is surrounded by people, really excited me. It was exciting because of the story around her situation. I am much more interested in what happens to the characters than the actual characters themselves, because any personality trait a human has is connected to what has happened to them and not necessarily who they are in their DNA. I mean it's a mix, but I'm more interested in the societal.
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| When The Light Breaks |
PR: Does this stem from having written your own stories?
EH; It may stem from the fact that I am a storyteller at heart. I have been asked so many times whether I want to be an actress or a musician — which do I prefer? It's the worst question and I just try to tell people that I am an artist because, to me, it's all the same thing. What drives me is telling stories.
It's a human thing to want to put things into categories because it makes the world so much easier. People really struggle to come to terms with the truth that is found in the grey. It's never in the black or the white, and Una's character sits in the grey. Is she a good person? Is she a bad person? She is the other woman, and she gets angry, and that's just so true, but this film, to me, is about truth.
Some people would have wanted there to have been an argument or for the Clara versus Una dynamic to be clearer — who is in the right and who is in the wrong. And I think Rúnar's way of telling the story is done well because he doesn't participate in that. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who's right and who's wrong. The only thing that matters is they shared this experience of losing somebody they both deeply loved.
PR: What's striking about stories is we know they're conceived and yet what happens to the characters can be deeply affecting. This speaks about the emotional truth expressed through imagination. I'd be interested to hear you elaborate on your own thoughts about truth in the context of the creative process.
EH: I'm drawn to artists that are moved by truth, which is the foundation of this film. And it's the thing that fundamentally drives me as an artist, because we're always trying to untangle the web of how the world is perceived, and we're always trying to see things the right way. That's what so many artists I've met are trying to do. Some might be motivated by money, status, or fame, but true art comes from this search for truth. And that can be challenging, and it can make you question a lot of what you've been taught. When it becomes uncomfortable is when we are making progress and that's when it becomes necessary.
PR: Stories can offer a safe space to have these uncomfortable conversations because drama disarms us and accesses our sympathy or empathy.
EH: That's why it's important to tell a story about grief, which is something that you enter into a contract with. If you want to love someone, then you will one day have to experience grief.
PR: Una suffers in silence to protect her secret. This shapes her as a silent character and drawing the audience towards her, creates space for them to enter the film. Importantly, Una isn't exposed. Instead, she is allowed to reveal herself on her own terms, often through her physical presence.
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| When The Light Breaks |
EH: That's what really drew me to wanting to work with Rúnar, because he does that well. And the script was different from the film that Rúnar wanted to make. He stripped back the dialogue, and he cut most of my lines. I was motivated by that because I am moved by the infinity within the smallest of units and how much can be said without words.
I think words can sometimes just overcomplicate and distract. Something you learn as an artist is that you're never in control of how people perceive what you say. You can try to create the best song you can, but you can't control how people perceive it. And the more words and the more fluff only adds to the complexities of how it can be perceived. I feel fortunate to have worked the way we did, by stripping it all down.
I approached this role in a very physical way. I am interested in evoking emotion from the physical and not being stuck in my head. It rhymes with everything I've been talking about, and when I read the script, I thought, 'Oh my God, this is like 50 Shades of Sad. How can I make it different? How can I make it abundant? How can I find all the complexities?'
With Una, I never wanted her to cry the same way twice, and for me, that came through in a lot of the physical work. I also wanted her to feel androgynous, both in the way she looked and how she walked and also in her whole demeanour, because she has her guard up. I wanted that to tell in her body language because she's aware that she's keeping people at a distance. And I wanted the audience to feel special by being there alongside her.
PR: I remember an actress talking to me about how she drew on her dance background. Whether it's music, dance or performance, they're all honing in on specific rhythms. How do you perceive the way your musical background bleeds into your acting?
EH: It does in a sense, because there's a rhythm to emotion. So much of art boils down to things simmering and having these ebbs and flows, and that's what music is all about to me. And up until my late teens, I was a ballerina. It influences everything I do today, both in terms of discipline and because ballet is incredibly detailed. It's the dance form that has some of the most detailed work. Figure skaters and opera singers take ballet lessons, and for me, it's the blueprint of all acting and all music. It's talking about truth. It's a craft of every single muscle and every single wavelength in your body.
PR: Looking back on making When The Light Breaks, was it a transformative experience?
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| When The Light Breaks |
EH: With this project, I grew up a lot because I was fresh out of university when I got the role, and it really cut deep. I gave this role everything. I cut my hair, and it consumed my life for many months. I became friends with the cast and Katla is my best friend.
This film has offered me so much, and it has changed my life, and Rúnar has changed the way I think about cinema and art in general. He's one of my biggest role models. And after shooting, it took me a while to shed this experience and shed the character, and I was honestly terrified to see the result because it had challenged every bit of me. It took me so long to say goodbye to it that when I finally saw it at Cannes, it was a big relief because I felt we were telling an important story about love and grief.
It's important to tell stories about grief that are true and enter the grey areas of human emotion and human relationships. We need more of these in our society today. We need more space, and we need to give each other more grace. Life is so fast-paced that everything is seen to be black and white, and we're interested in what divides us, not what unites us.
When The Light Breaks was released on digital on 7 July.
