“I hate trailers,” director Rúnar Rúnarsson states confidently. “Trailers are getting worse. They are just answering the final question.” As we meet to discuss his fourth feature, Ljósbrot — or Where The Light Breaks, in English — Rúnar remains cautious. He’s wrestling with a filmmaker’s dilemma: how much to say without saying too much.
“I’ve been told that I have bad trailers because I keep everything away,” he admits. “But I think we have a good trailer now.”
Without being too revealing, Ljósbrot’s trailer, indeed, captures the mood. The 88-minute feature follows a group of young adults on a long summer day in Reykjavík — from sunset to sunset. An unexpected event disrupts their day.
“I love the energy of this age,” Rúnar says, referring to the film’s characters in their early 20s. “You’re not a kid anymore, yet you haven’t been a grown-up for long, either. But you have so much energy and you feel invincible. You’re never gonna die. You believe you can run through all walls,” he pauses, then adds, “And then all of a sudden, there’s a wall they hit that they weren’t expecting.”
Having opened the Un Certain Regard at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, Ljósbrot has since received four international awards and been sold to almost all territories. It premieres in Iceland on August 28.
Youthful energy and artistic vision
“It’s a topic that I’ve been trying to deal with for decades,” Rúnar explains. When asked about the names mentioned in the film’s dedication, he’s brief but poignant, “They are dear friends that went too early.”
It’s not unusual for Rúnar to base his films on first and second-hand experiences, mixed with fictional elements. “But I have stopped saying what is what,” he says. “Personally, I have nothing to hide, but if I’m dealing with something that is based on real things, or my interpretation of reality, it’s not other people’s (question) to answer. It’s mine to answer.”
The cast of the film, including Elín Hall, Baldur Einarsson and Katla Njálsdóttir, feels like a group of friends coming together. “And most of them are,” Rúnar confirms, noting that some of the actors studied together or collaborated on previous projects. “They’re all great actors,” he continues. The group’s dynamics played a key role during casting.
Between a busy year of musical projects, Elín Hall — the winner of the 2023 Grapevine Awards Album of the Year for Heyrist í mér — cemented herself as a confident actress ready for any challenge. Starring in Ljósbrot as the pansexual character Una, Elín found time between takes to collaborate on a music project called Mammaðin with her co-star Katla (who plays the role of Klara).
“They told me about it in the middle of the shoot,” Rúnar laughs. “Katla called me and said, ‘Rúnar, Elín and I are starting a band. Do you agree?’ I thought she was just joking at first, and I said, ‘Great for you guys, but can we focus on the shoot for now.’ The other day I saw their band on top of the chart at Rás 2. They have a bunch of talent, both of them.”
Rúnar admits that working with the young actors was a smooth process. “They were so open to just throw themselves into the pool and just go for it,” he says, explaining his directorial approach. “Generally, I prepare a lot. I try to find people that are better than me in each and every position — a better set designer, better DOP and so on. I have a vision, and they enlarge the vision in a coalition together.”
He explains that rehearsing each scene is essential for finding flaws in the dramaturgy, giving an example: “I step on a nail, and I say, ‘Fuck,’ you say, ‘Hell’, and the next person doesn’t say anything, just keeps on walking. I want all my actors to find what is fluent for them to say, so [I’m open to] changing dialogue,” he says, adding, “And what I love doing is deleting dialogue.”
Behind the frame
In Ljósbrot, Rúnar allows many things to remain unspoken — either in the deliberate use of empty spaces, thoughtful application of music or elements that are intentionally left behind the frame.
The soundtrack of the film is the late Jóhann Jóhannsson’s requiem “Odi et Amo,” which translates from Latin as “I love and I hate.”
“Of all the great compositions of Jóhann Jóhannsson, this is one of my favourites,” Rúnar says. Typically, he collaborates with Kjartan Sveinsson on his film scores, but with Kjartan busy touring with Sigur Rós, Rúnar recalls, “We didn’t have the time that we normally have, so I started to look around; it didn’t take me long to remember this.”
Reflecting on his connection to Jóhann, Rúnar shares, “Iceland is small. Jóhann and I grew up on the same street. When I started to listen to music, at age 12 or 13, I realised that this dude in my street was just doing insane experimental music. I was a groupie for a really long time. He was a great artist. I’m really thankful for his daughter and the people that are managing his estate, that they gave permission for this beautiful piece to be a part of our film.”
The case for film
Rúnars’s decision to shoot Ljósbrot on 16mm film resulted in a unique visual aesthetic for the picture. The colours and textures, less crisp than digital, give the film a distinct character. Working with the film medium was not a first for Rúnar — with the exception of one, all his previous projects were analogue.
“One thing is this taste,” he says. “Another thing is how I think it works. Even though the source really matters, it’s similar to music — you record it on tape, but then you listen to it and broadcast it digitally. There’s something that happens with the source. The imagery is softer, the light behaves differently.”
Despite the common perception that making a feature entirely shot on film is very expensive due to the film cost and the need to develop footage abroad (since there is no professional lab in Iceland), Rúnar shakes his head, “It’s a different procedure. It doesn’t have to be more expensive.”
He explains, “When you shoot on film, you tend to be differently prepared. You’re not just leaving the camera running. There is less material, which makes it easier to keep an oversight of what you’re doing in the editing room.”
For Rúnar, there was no question of going digital or analogue for Ljósbrot — the choice was easy. Looking at the number of Oscar-nominated movies from the previous year that used the same medium, Rúnar believes film is experiencing a revival. “Every story has its medium,” he says. “The analogue way to shoot on film enhances the emotional side of things, while the digital enhances the rational side of things.”
Chasing the sun
Pondering the challenges of making Ljósbrot, Rúnar answers quickly, “It tends to be the weather in Iceland because it’s ever-changing. We live in this country, so we know that weather is like this — just like since we started this interview, first there was no sun and now sun is just burning us here,” he points to the sky, squinting from the sun. “But for an audience, that’s just weird if there’s sunshine, then it’s snowing, then it’s raining — like what we’re used to.”
Ljósbrot was shot over 30 days during the summer of 2023, with weather and sun position dictating the schedule to maintain continuity so the viewer doesn’t doubt it’s the same day. This meant the filmmaking team had to prioritise scenes where weather was a crucial element.
“There’s a lot of luck involved. We can think about a visual or something that you want to do, but even if you think that you’ve budgeted for it, you can’t control mother nature,” Rúnar admits.
The urge to create
Between travelling to festivals and promoting Ljósbrot, Rúnar had a productive year. He also finished a new short film, O, about a man whose success is obstructed by his own actions — it will premiere at the Venice Film Festival. One of the director’s earlier short films The Last Farm was nominated for an Oscar, but it’s not the awards Rúnar is after. “My aim is never to make a film that wins awards. My aim is to get something out,” he says. “My aim is to have fun at work as well — there’re so many people that make a film and make a film function. If I was a one-man show, I would make quite lousy films.”
Rúnar acknowledges that working on Ljósbrot has been a significant part of his personal journey. “I write because I have an urge. It’s self-reflecting, it’s a part of some kind of process for me of trying to be a better human being, of trying to be in better connection to myself,” he says. “All of my films have helped me process something.”
Ljósbrot premieres at Bío Paradís and Sambíó theatres on August 28.
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