For 700 residents of Seyðisfjörður, Herðubíó is a fixture — a meeting place, a chance to dress up a bit and an opportunity to see a long-awaited movie on the cinema’s single screen. For those living elsewhere in East Iceland, even in neighbouring Mjóifjörður, it’s at least an hour’s drive, often made longer or simply impossible by severe weather conditions along the winding road to Seyðisfjörður.
Herðubíó is the only cinema in the whole of East of Iceland. In this remote corner of the country, the cinema offers a timeless combination — a slice of cinematic culture, accompanied by the familiar rustle of popcorn bags.
The present-day Herðubíó is a product of the work by Sesselja Hlín Jónasardóttir and Celia Harrison who took over the community centre Herðubreið, which houses the cinema, in 2017. The cinema’s history dates back a few decades before that. Back in 1923, a group formed in Seyðisfjörður, envisioning opening a community centre and cinema. Construction of Herðubreið began in 1946, and the building was unveiled 10 years later, on December 16, 1956. Since then, the community centre has hosted regular screenings and dances.
In 2008, the cinema ceased operations, citing outdated equipment and lack of funds for new gear. It remained closed until its reopening in 2020.
I meet with Sesselja at Herðubíó during the farewell LungA festival, one of the few weekends of the year when the cinema isn’t running. She begins with the story of how she, a Seyðisfjörður local, and Celia, originally from New Zealand, became business partners.
“She got a little bit claustrophobic in New Zealand and decided to come to Iceland for a residency. We met on the first day. She basically asked me, ‘Do you want to be my friend?’” Sesselja smiles. “Three months later, we started the List í Ljósi festival, which still runs in the wintertime. A year later, she approached me and asked me if I wanted to take over this house together. She’s very convincing — I said yes.”
Cinematic comeback
Sesselja and Celia realised the scale of the project, only when they first visited the community centre. They thought, “This is a big, big project. What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Having been idle for a few years, the space had fallen into disrepair. “It was pretty rundown — the smell was weird, the walls were grey,” says Sesselja. “We really wanted to make it a community centre again and make it lively and welcoming.”
With this goal in mind, the duo turned to local residents for input. In a tight-knit community like Seyðisfjörður, embarking on any project without consulting the locals is neither feasible nor sensible. Sesselja and Celia invited community members over for a discussion, “We asked, ‘What do you miss about Herðubreið?’ What we heard was the same story over and over again — ‘we miss the cinema,’” Sesselja shares.
The team embarked on a years-long renovation project to revive Herðubíó, trying to do as much as possible with their own hands and resources. “I actually painted the cinema myself during Covid,” Sesselja says with a smile. Her grandfather did the original woodwork on the house, so coming back and taking over his legacy felt extra special for her.
The duo upgraded the equipment and installed a new movie screen. Sesselja points to the seats that have aged over time, noting that they are among the few elements preserved from the cinema’s previous iteration. “The seats are from 1952, they’re the original seats. We haven’t dared to ask if we can change them. They’re historical,” she explains.
Since reopening its doors in 2020, Herðubíó has been offering screenings every Friday and Sunday. Fridays are for movie premieres and popular films, Sundays are family days. “We try to offer a mixture of Hollywood blockbusters and films similar to what Bíó Paradís shows,” Sesselja explains.
Beyond regular screenings, the cinema often hosts movie clubs and even an annual film event — the small, artistic Flat Earth Film Festival. On days when the cinema doesn’t have screenings, the Herðubreið community centre remains active. With LungA school upstairs, the space buzzes with life, hosting various events — from markets and weddings to funerals. The screening room serves multiple functions: a rehearsal space for musicians, a venue for concerts and dances, a stage for theatre plays and a location for private parties.
When asked whether two screening days are enough for the cinema, Sesselja responds, “In the summertime, it could be more, for sure. “But I think my personal capacity running this cinema is limited.” Herðubíó is a full-time job for her, but between screenings, she also owns and runs Skaftfell bistro with her cousin, his wife, and two friends.
The long road to Herðubíó
Stocked with popcorn and candy, Herðubíó is much like a typical cinema, even though it might take some visitors a few hours to get here. For example, the distance between Seyðisfjörður and Neskaupstaður, just two fjords away, is 93 km or a 1 hour and 21 minute drive. “This is the only cinema in the East — people need to go to Akureyri or Selfoss next if they want to go to the movies. It’s really important to invite people to come to experience a kind of mainstream culture,” Sesselja stresses.
The two-person team runs the cinema with no additional help, yet they stay in constant communication with distribution and production companies in Reykjavík. “We know a little bit what people want after doing this for three and a half years,” Sesselja says of their programming. “We also ask questions.”
Sesselja jokes that, since starting this project, she’s become quite the expert on projectors, though navigating technology remains one of the biggest challenges of running the space. “Often I have difficulties downloading a movie, or the key doesn’t work or something, so I’m calling Sena panicking. It’s been a learning curve, for sure,” she says. “I actually also learned to animate so I could make little advertisements before the screening — for ice cream and candy. They’re very charming and cute.”
Creating intermissions is one of the most exciting parts of the job for Sesselja.“For Halloween, I made a little short film and I had so much fun with it.” She also enjoys hosting themed events. For example, at the latest James Bond premiere, they sold themed cocktails and had a dressed-up bartender. “I want to do more of this and maybe put some beanbags on the floor. My favourite thing is making it as charming and fun as possible,” Sesselja adds.
Minion mayhem
With its single-screen, Herðubíó seats 115 people. But the demand for the local cinematic gem often exceeds the capacity. “We’ve had some incidents when 250 people showed up,” Sesselja recalls. “That was a mayhem. I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”
What movie caused such a sensation in Seyðisfjörður? One of the Minions films released a few years ago. “I just remember thinking, ‘Why is the line of people not stopping?’” Sesselja recalls. “I looked outside and there was a line over the bridge. I thought to myself, ‘This is a disaster.’ I had to tell everyone it’s sold out. But people went like, ‘But I drove here all the way from Neskaupstaður’ or ‘Vopnafjörður.’ I was just telling myself, ‘It’s fine, it’s fine.’ I got 150 chairs and put them in line. The screening was an hour late,” she pauses, “I still have nightmares about it.”
This incident prompted Herðubíó to digitise. After the screening, Sesselja created a website for the cinema, encouraging people to book tickets online and check ahead in case screenings are sold out. Despite these efforts, the possibility of an overcrowded screening continues to haunt Sesselja. “It almost happened for Inside Out when 140 people came and I had to put chairs again,” she says, anticipating that the new Deadpool & Wolverine film might cause similar havoc. “These are popular cartoons and movies that people just want to see immediately. They love the chaos and having to fight for the seat with popcorn everywhere. I don’t get it, but they love it, so it’s very nice,” she smiles.
Stuck in Seyðisfjörður
Seyðisfjörður has only one road connecting the town with nearby settlements, which means that in winter, the town often becomes inaccessible due to the risk of avalanches. In spring, mudslides can cause troubles, while storms and harsh winds can occur at any time of year. “When the mountain is closed or people are scared to drive, we can really feel it, because people don’t come over,” shares Sesselja. For those who do make the journey, a casual cinema night can turn into a reenactment of Tom Hanks’ experience in The Terminal, but instead of being confined to four walls of the airport, they’d find themselves in a valley surrounded by haunting mountains.
“This spring, a funny thing happened. A couple came to the cinema, but as they were watching the movie, the mountain closed. They got stuck here for four days,” Sesselja recalls. “They got a little hotel, came to the kids movie on Sunday, joined the Easter bingo, and had a great time, but they got stuck here while watching the movie. This can happen.”
Despite the weather hurdles, a schedule running just two days a week, and a screening room far from the lights of big-city multiplexes, “People have so much fun coming here,” says Sesselja. “We don’t have nice chairs, but we make it up with how charming it is,” she laughs. “Sometimes people I don’t know call my personal phone and ask, ‘Hey, I was wondering, what time is the movie?’”
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