It can be easy to forget why the fight matters. Saving the
earth from the destruction mankind has wrought is a goal that is equal parts
grand and abstract. It is certain our survival depends on the fate of a planet
that sure as hell did not need us before we got here but desperately needs us
now. But what that means in real terms can start to blur around the edges.
Then you look in the eyes of a 4-year-old girl who has lost
her family to war. Her face is pleading but resilient as she holds out a small
bouquet. A photo of this girl provides the emotional through-line of Woman at War, the new film from
Icelandic director Benedikt Erlingsson, which carries on that rich Scandinavian
tradition of placing human comedy and human tragedy right alongside each other.
Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir stars as Halla, a choir
director in her late 40s or early 50s who has dedicated her off hours to
sabotaging Iceland’s smelting industry through direct attacks on its power
grid. She is mild-mannered and sweet in her work but brave and determined in
her battle, these two sides co-existing within her without irony or
contradiction. She is all of these and more and always believably thanks to a
fabulous performance by Geirharðsdóttir and a perfectly pitched
script co-written by Erlingsson with Ólafur Egilsson.
Halla’s mission is thrown into jeopardy when she receives
word an application for adoption she filed long ago – long before beginning her
dangerous but vital work – has been approved. She will be mother to Nika, a
4-year-old Ukrainian girl whose parents died in the war and who was discovered
with the body of her grandmother, who had been dead for days. She receives the
photograph of this small child, alone in the world, and her dilemma is clear.
If Halla continues on her path, she is likely to be caught
and thrown in jail, leaving Nika without a mother. At the same time, who is
this struggle for if not for Nika? Saving the planet is necessary, yes, but
that is the abstract. The specifics are to preserve a habitable home for
children like Nika and to prevent the next generation from having to pay the
bill for our mistakes. In this light, we see that Halla holds the future of not
just one child in her hands, but all children.
The filmmaking throughout is superb, particularly during the
thrilling sabotage sequences. Erlingsson makes wonderful use of Iceland’s
natural beauty by often framing Geirharðsdóttir alone against vast,
verdant fields and a steely gray sky. It is a high-stakes cat-and-mouse game,
and Erlingsson milks the suspense for all it is worth. But whimsical flourishes
like putting the musicians and singers providing the film’s score right on
screen – not to be commented upon as part of the action but there like a record
player might be – ensure the drama never becomes self-serious nor the message
too heavy-handed.
The script is smart about the way politicians and industry
leaders try to spin the climate debate in the press, portraying
environmentalism as inherently anti-business and attempting to turn public
sentiment against Halla and her quest. There are also some shenanigans with
twins, cousins, and a luckless Mexican tourist, but all of this is spice. They
provide depth and flavor to the film, but the true meal, the core of the story,
is Halla’s responsibility to her future daughter and the future world.
The ending briefly looks as if it will be a little too tidy
before closing on a confidently ambiguous and beautifully conceived final shot
that ties all of the story’s thematic threads together. The destruction we have
rendered is already upon us, it argues. We are knee-deep in it. There is
nothing else we can do but forge ahead bravely, holding close and protecting
that which matters most.
