FILM REVIEW: "When the Light Breaks": A slow-burning ballet of guilt and grief

I doubt I’m alone in saying that Scandinavia is not the first region that arises when I think about non-English film. My mind goes to Southern Europe, or East Asia, or even, more recently, West Africa. After sitting down for the premiere of the Saxo Scandinavian Film Festival (running from July 17 to August 14), my mind’s been entirely readjusted. When the Light Breaks floored me consistently. From minute one, it becomes impossible not to sink into the charm and feel of this film, and days after watching, I’ve yet to surface.

Impeccable performances bring every ounce of doubt and anguish to the fore without even opening their mouths. When they do speak, these complex characters treat the audience to an array of spirited, touching idiosyncrasies. Una (played by Elin Hall) puts up an Oscar-worthy performance, but it is the side characters that light up the frosty art-classes, basements and back-alleys these characters inhabit. While it would’ve been awesome to have more of a look into the arts scene that Una and her love interest connected through, maybe it would’ve drawn focus away from the characters’ psyches. The brevity of the film is a complement to both Director Rúnar Rúnarsson and editor Andri Steinn Guojósson – they tell only as much of the story as absolutely necessary, and through that deepen its raw impact.

I could gush for pages about the craft of this film, or soundtrack, tonal balance, visual symmetry, restraint, humility, theme, or sensitivity, but none of it would adequately capture the pure Human storytelling on offer here. So don’t just take it from me: One lady in the cinema called it a special ‘affect’ film, for how much it affected her. Another person told me it was an immediate pick for favourite of the year. On the strength of these opinions, this is a new go-to recommendation for anybody’s first foray into foreign film.

4 out of 5 stars