Heima means home in Icelandic. And, as its name suggests, this documentary follows the homecoming of hugely successful independent band, Sigur Ros, as they play a series of free, relatively impromptu concerts in locations across Iceland, culminating in their performance in Reykjavik.
Even if you’ve never heard of the band, it’s a story of quality music triumphing in a commercial and competitive world. In fact, what is remarkable is just how “un-corporate” the band is: the credits begin with the camera closing in on t-shirts for the band’s tour being hand printed and despite the quality production values the film has an unpretentious, homespun feel to it.
Sigur Ros broke out of Iceland in 1999 when their second album became a huge word of mouth hit, selling around 600,000 copies, which led to a grueling international tour schedule. In 2002, the band’s follow up album ‘()’ came without any song titles at all but still sold around 600,000 copies. Their third album, Takk…, has beaten that.
There is more than a passing resemblance to their homeland’s most famous musical export, Bjork, in the use of glockenspiels and some of the vocals. But they also sound a little like Radiohead at their most melancholic, or a less poppy version of Coldplay.
That said, this is certainly not your typical rock and roll road trip documentary. In fact, the genre may have been re-written entirely. For a start, the film has a strong emphasis on nature, beauty, and photography, and it’s quite slick camera work. And then there is the band itself: polite, thoughtful and quietly spoken – the band members look youthful, healthy and glowing, if a bit cold, bathed in the clear summer light of the Iceland. There is no bad behaviour at all. No tantrums, no fights, no ego, and most surprisingly, no real commentary on the road trip itself. The places, the music, and the vistas are given the chance to speak for themselves like some musical visual poem. What you are left with is the journey and the music.
Sigur Ros perform in halls, at afternoon teas, in an old derelict fish factory on the coast, at a protest site for a dam, and a summer campground. Perhaps most importantly, they perform for people who, for various reasons not least of them geography, never would have normally bought a ticket to one of their shows.
So what’s the point? If there is a moral to this story, or the film about it, the band members take it in turns to sum it up in the opening scenes:
“There used to be pop bands who toured Iceland, but this is becoming less and less”, says one.
“But these are the people who back us up”, says another, referring to the small towns and villages full of reserved but keen locals, proud to support home grown talent.
“It’s our idea to give back in a way”, says another of the boys of Sigur Ros.
It’s hard not to admire them, and what they are trying to use their fame and music to do.
Crowds – large by remote Icelandic standards – of all ages, from toddlers to the elderly, come and watch these free shows, many of them wearing the same hand knitted Icelandic jumpers. While they are there for the music they’re also there because someone has bothered to come to their part of the world, to entertain them, and it’s a special occasion.
Someone not addicted the soothing music of Sigur Ros might be tempted to use the fast forward button when they launch into yet another song, making the film feel in its slowest parts like an extended show reel or music video. But mostly, the wonderful cinematography is enough to keep you interested, and there are many gems along the way.
There are gorgeous moments, like the scene where we watch the band onstage in a small hall. Another camera outside follows a marching band in uniform as they play through the streets of the tiny town, into the hall, backstage, onto the stage one by one, out through the audience, then up the street again, never missing a beat, and gelling with the music of Sigur Ros. In other locations the locals also get involved: One plays a glockenspiel made of rocks and the band joins with an elderly chanting choir for one performance, showing a side of Iceland’s musical history that is vanishing.
The press notes say that the film also serves as a primer for Iceland the country, and they’re not lying. It made me want to visit.
Fans of the band will undoubtedly love the documentary, but it’s sure to capture the imagination of nature lovers, Iceland enthusiasts, documentary addicts, or music independent music lovers the world over.
The film, like the band, is something just a little bit different.
Heima premiered at the Icelandic Film Festival in September, and was released in cinemas in the UK on 2 November. The DVD, latest album Hvarf-Heim, and an accompanying book are available now.
heimafilm.com
myspace.com/heimamovie
sigur-ros.co.uk/tour/diary
Sigur Ros featured on The Culture Show last month, ahead of the release of Heima:
