In the opening stages of “Echo,” a farmhouse burns brilliantly against the beautifully bruised sky of Iceland at dusk. It’s a striking image that recalls the climax of Andrei Tarkovksy’s “The Sacrifice,” a moment consumed with despair, madness, and transformation as part of a bargain with God. However, in the new film by Rúnar Rúnarsson, the occasion carries no such theological or metaphysical concerns. Bystanders idly capture the building’s blazing destruction with their smartphones, while the owner stands by, calmly explaining that what was once the social center for rural life, will be replaced by a bed-and-breakfast with a focus on farm-to-table meals. The scene encapsulates the primary interests — modernity versus tradition, social media, class strife — Rúnarsson explores in his compelling and uniquely constructed new movie, which heightens those themes by placing them against the backdrop of the holiday season.
Composed of 56 brief scenes, which all play out in under 80 minutes, the film doesn’t present a cohesive narrative so much as a collected sensation. Taking place from the days before Christmas until just after the New Year, the initial fascination with “Echo” lies in how it was put together. Rúnarsson established a loose set of rules, whereby each sequence is composed of a single static shot, presenting both documentary and fictionalized scenes, using almost entirely amateur or unknown actors. It’s the kind of cinematic dogma that could be perceived as pretentious if it wasn’t so effective. Though working within a very rigid framework, including the rule that no actor could appear in more than one scene, Rúnarsson’s resulting film feels anything but inelastic. What emerges is a naturalistic and resonant portrait of contemporary Iceland, a society grappling with the same socioeconomic waves that have gripped the rest of the world, along with the everyday conflicts and compassions of human interaction.
The choice to present a largely anonymous ensemble, works in conjunction with the seasonal setting, to elevate the little dramas of each scene. “Echo” works best when it finds its big ideas distilled through the realities of its everyday characters. While a TV broadcast may declare “the capitalists are declaring war on the working class in Iceland,” or a New Year’s Eve party may devolve into an argument over political frustrations, these concepts land with more impact in a scene where a foreman shows up to worksite to find all the contracted laborers gone on strike, having learned they’re earning a fraction of the amount they’re being hired for. Likewise, a farmer’s impassioned phone plea to a bank representative to approve a loan so he can buy Christmas gifts for his children, after being denied via an algorithm online, also brings a human face to complex issues.
However, not all of Rúnarsson’s micro-stories are politically focused. Some of the film’s best are finely realized mini-dramas such as a child calling 112 fearful of his parents arguing; the emotional and slightly competitive introduction of two step-sisters for the first time; and in one of the most sensitive moments in “Echo,” an exceedingly warm and touching conversation between two needle exchange workers, and an addict, as they ensure he has somewhere to go on Christmas Day. However, without nuance, some of the scenes fall flat. A misunderstanding over a parking space leads to a Facebook livestream that says little about social media hysteria that we don’t know already. A chance encounter, years later, a between a bully and their victim also feels disappointingly empty. Even more curiously, “Echo” is a strangely sexless affair. For all the film’s heated politics and lively tableaus, there is a noticeable absence of any kind of sexuality, made all the more apparent considering it’s a time of year when close connections can feel even more magnified.
That being said, Rúnarsson’s vision is more overarching. Aided by elegant and perceptive framing by cinematographer Sophia Olsson, the director uses the film to elicit critical and tender observations about his country. “Echo” isn’t poised to join the pantheon of populist Christmas movies; “Love Actually” needn’t worry about being usurped. However, it does honestly reflect the cross-section of worries, real world matters, disharmonies, and warmth, that individuals carry with them to the Christmas table, and the faint hope that the New Year brings with it the opportunity for renewal. [B+]