Hlynur Pálmason received a plethora of recognition and acclaim for his gorgeously-shot drama film, Godland, which had its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in 2022. Godland remains known for its picturesque cinematography capturing the Icelandic landscape and its raw, meandering tale. Pálmason returned three years later to the esteemed festival this year with his new film, The Love That Remains. A gentle and authentic dramedy that highlights the miraculous gift that is nature. As well as the fragility and beauty of familial relationships, and the poetry woven into everyday life.
Not unlike Godland, The Love That Remains is a visually stunning watch. Set once again in the stark and wild Icelandic wilderness, it follows a family of 5 over the course of a year as they navigate the separation of the two adults. From the realization of faded love to hilarious shared moments, the film is a pure depiction of shared pain, understanding and the mourning of something that once was. The film utilizes less of a narrative structure and plays more like a visual poem. Each scene a stanza. With the verses broken up by static shots of an armor-clad, scarecrow-like target. Enduring arrows shot by the children as well as the harsh Icelandic elements as each season passes, and with it, time.
Pálmason has a knack for encouraging extremely authentic and moving performances out of his actors. And this is indeed the case with The Love That Remains. With a talented cast, including a gaggle of children and a show-stopping canine performance, and portrayal of Panda the Icelandic sheepdog, the film often feels more like a documentary than a narrative feature. And this is to its benefit.
Saga Gardarsdottir is Anna, an artist who is ready to separate officially from her fisherman husband Magnus (Sverrir Gudnason), as the two still share a home together with their children. The ensemble of quirky, but very authentic, individuals create a chaotic familial energy that permeates every frame. A believable ménage that provides levels of authenticity and a sort of familiar nostalgia to the story.
There’s an abundance of dry humor to go around. And as The Love That Remains slips into surrealism at times, its wit and genuinity keep it afloat amidst the depiction of this rocky relationship. The film balances some of its rather lofty ideas and outlandish imagery with solid moments of realism and drama. These stabilize the picture and paint a moving soliloquy, packed with subtle emotion that sneaks up on the viewer.
Coupled with alluring and near-tangible cinematography by the multi-talented Pálmason, the writer-director-artist has assuredly locked in his signature filmmaking style. Stunning, subtle technicals and a raw story that digs at the very core of human nature and relationships, with performances to beat.
Ultimately, The Love That Remains is a tender poem of a film. An intimate portrait, a detailed ode to love that once was, and love that lingers despite hardship, turmoil and pain. It’s a reminder that even when faced with an ending – whether it be the conclusion of a long relationship, the loss of a loved one or the mourning of what once was, that feeling everything from the beauty, the torment and suffering, is just further proof that it was worth it.
The Love That Remains is cinematic proof that love will find its way to consistently triumph. And will always manage to leave its nostalgic scent behind as a bittersweet reminder – even if it has long faded. The gentle film prompts its viewers to remember how beautiful it is that a moment, a love, or a memory fully existed in the first place. Whether in the shadow of bittersweet heartbreak, or the warm, nostalgic glow of a morning sun; to simply remember.
