Mark Reviews Movies: A WHITE, WHITE DAY

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 16, 2020

Asked by a counselor to describe who he is, Ingimundur (Ingvar Sigurðsson) provides a list: a man, a father, a grandfather, and a widower. That's the extent of what he knows about himself, what he cares to know about himself, or what he's willing admit to about himself. There's a lot more to this man than such practical descriptors, and writer/director Hlynur Palmason's A White, White Day gradually peels away the solid surface of this character, until there's almost nothing remaining but grief, resentment, and anger.

Ingimundur's wife has died in a car accident that opens the film. Some time passes, as Palmason's camera sits and watches a house, with jump cuts to different times of the day and weather conditions. Eventually, it's occupied by Ingimundur, a police officer, who's renovating the home for his daughter Elín (Elma Stefania Agustsdottir) and granddaughter Salka (Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir).

A plot eventually emerges, as Ingimundur comes to believe that his wife might have had an affair and begins following the man (played by Hilmir Snær Guðnason) he suspects was her lover. Palmason, though, intentionally obfuscates Ingimundur's rationale for his suspicions (He finds a photo of the man and the man's phone number among the wife's things, and he also states that he thought she was hiding something from him) and only follows through on seeing Ingimundur do something about his ideas during the third act.

That's because this is first and foremost a character piece, about a man who refuses to give in to, accept, or even acknowledge his emotions—until they inevitably boil over and engulf his life. The first act shows Ingimundur distracting himself, immediately getting to work on that house for his family, and the second act shows how he evades speaking openly about his suspicion and his feelings toward them.

The closest he comes is to a friend, who admits that he cheated on his own wife, but Ingimundur simply stews in misery when Salka interrupts them. The happiness he gets from spending time with granddaughter evaporates, and Ingimundur begins to lash out at his family, the counselor, and his co-workers.

Palmason's somewhat elliptical approach to this material reflects how the concept of time is lost on the grieving. On top of that, Sigurðsson's meticulous slow-burn of a performance grounds A White, White Day as a study of determined stoicism transforming into useless rage.

Note: A White, White Day is available to watch online through Film Movement's Virtual Cinema. You can choose to support a local independent theater (e.g., the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago) with your rental purchase. Half of proceeds from the rental will go to the theater. For more information and to access the film, click here.

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