Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Tinna Hrafnsdóttir
Starring: Anita Briem, Edda Björgvinsdóttir, Kristin Thora Haraldsdottir, Bergur Ebbi Benediktsson
Looking over the films I’ve written about during the last month or so -
I’m thinking specifically of
Lola and the Sea
and
The Pit
- there seems to be an emergent theme of bodily integrity, of characters
who refute the body they were born into and who determine (prolonged,
resolute) control over a physicality which contrasts the person they are.
The transgender themes of both Lola and the Sea and
The Pit (where the gender concerns of each film’s characters
are integral to the plot) not only posit physicality as a constraint but
also the society which the characters exist within as equally restrictive
and judgemental when it comes to their respective physicality. It’s
interesting, then, to see Quake, Tinna Hrafnsdóttir’s cool Icelandic melodrama, explore similar
themes although within an explicitly non-LGBTQ+ framework: its central
character falls foul of a physical malady which leads to others negatively
regarding her. All three films, however, feature as their main character a
woman who is at odds with her body, and who is treated with suspicion by
her immediate context.
Saga (Anita Briem) is an author and single mother. This first
aspect of her character, along with her on-the-nef name, is an ironic
designation as it will turn out that Saga has a few stories from her past
which she refuses to accept. Her parental denotation is also agitated
when, out for a walk in the park with her young son, without warning Saga
suffers a grand mal fit. A terrifying experience, but to add insult to
injury, in the aftermath of the seizure Saga at once seems to have lost
aspects of her memory, along with experiencing unsolicited reminders of
repressed incidents. Saga no longer has the handle on her body which she
believed she had, nor does she have the ability to order her own thoughts.
What’s worse is that her family, who are painted as ostensibly decent and
kind people, are tricky too. Following this out of the blue paroxysm, and
Saga’s understandably ensuing fragility, they don’t think she is up to
looking after the kid, arguing he’d be better off with his dad and
treating Saga like a complete invalid.
This aspect of Quake is troubling. I’m no expert on matters,
but surely the best course of action would be to provide support and an
attempt at relative normalcy as Saga is tested and eventually medicated? I
understand that caution has to be exercised and that concessions will need
to be made, but the way Saga’s people carry on with her is just a step
away from packing her off to Bedlam. It’s an amplification of events which
give Quake an unearned sense of drama.
Ultimately a character study, Quake is adapted from the 2015
novel 'Grand Mal' by Auður Jónsdóttir, who is apparently massive in
her home country of Iceland. 'Grand Mal' has been a domestic success, and
Quake does have the retrospective feel of an adaptation. I
wonder, then, if the medium of Jónsdóttir’s prose more proficiently
articulated Saga’s interiors than cinema’s essentially objective camera
was able to, imbuing the functional plot with emotional detail (the
English translation isn’t out until Feb next year or I would have
investigated further).
What Quake does present though is a pristinely realised
drama, but one which is at times as cold and removed as its depicted
environs. Throughout, however, there is the consistent visual delight of
Scandi-porn: icy fjords, devastating mountains of cassiterite, ordered
town streets and minimalist home interiors. Mmmmmm. Perfectly situated
within this appealing photographic lexicon is Briem herself, whose polar
beauty is at once steadfast and vulnerable, and provides
Quake with a measurably riveting centre.
Quake opens in Iceland in January
2022. A UK/ROI release has yet to be announced.
