Written and directed by Rúnar Rúnarsson, Una grapples with grief while harbouring a secret, unable to fully express her emotions, as she navigates challenging events swirling around her. Starring: Elín Hall, Katla Njálsdóttir, Mikael Kaaber, Ágúst Wigum, Gunnar Hrafn Kristjánsson and Baldur Einarsson.
There’s something utterly symbiotic about having a wistful, poignant, exploration of trauma set to the backdrop of the beautiful Icelandic landscape. Especially when you have a cinematographer like Sophia Olsson not only taking advantage of all the sharpness that the natural colours have to offer but adding a brilliant texture. The aesthetic of When the Light Breaks is utterly absorbing, there’s a touch of the old-fashioned and it perfectly pairs with the emotional yet refined nature to Rúnar Rúnarsson’s direction and atmosphere.
Considering this is a story surrounding people in their early twenties, it’s surprisingly graceful. Rúnarsson remarkably manages to do justice to their youth while not sacrificing anything of the earnest nature to When the Light Breaks’ tone. Another unique element is how he builds such a fascinating tension, it’s a very specific experience and so it strikes an unusual chord. It creates an unexpectedly on edge quality to the film, it’s forever anticipating conflict but interestingly is concerned more with the in-between than any clashes.
Part of that stems from the creation of Una (Elín Hall), she has a classic artist’s temperament so there’s competitive, aggressive and envious veins running through her. She also has a touch of unpredictability which helps that on edge feel. Hall’s performance brings her to life with a lot of personality and confidence, she’s the tiniest bit abrasive but that simply makes her feel more real. Another great and clever choice by Rúnarsson is to have a very intentional, meaningful comparison between Una and Klara (Katla Njálsdóttir) running all throughout their time onscreen.
Not only do Hall and Njálsdóttir have a superb rivalry styled yet complex chemistry, the way that the film highlights their differences but particularly their similarities is enthralling. The two of them imbibe When the Light Breaks with a great deal of emotion and excellently so. The majority of it goes unsaid, for obvious reasons, but there’s underlying poking and prodding to test each other which has plenty to say. That’s running alongside their outright grief and neither tries to overshadow the other, they’re balanced very well.
When the Light Breaks has such a compelling, thoughtful presence, it’s shot excellently with a strong mixture of sharpness and textures. It holds a very unusual and gripping tension, for a fairly subtle drama, it’s surprisingly on edge which works brilliantly. It creates such an expansive emotional journey in a short amount of time, in no small part due to its terrific cast. It’s only really let down by its ending shot which feels horribly clichéd, which while beautiful, is a disappointing note to end the film on.
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