onethirtybpm.com
Dark, ominous, and haunting aren’t the words one would first associate with the Icelandic post-rock band Sigur Rós, but their new concert film, INNI, confronts viewers with something far from the spirited, jovial, and delightfully eccentric band that many know. Vincent Morisset, the film’s Quebecois director, projected the original digital footage of the concert and re-filmed it on a vintage camera, providing INNI with a grainy quality and overtly dark sensibility.
During the two-minute instrumental introduction to the opening song “ný batterí,” Morisset hits the audience with an array of mysterious moving textures, as well as fragmented shots of instruments and pieces of stage equipment. If an audience member had not intentionally gone to see a movie about Sigur Rós, they would be far from convinced that the film was even about a band. Even as lead singer Jónsi Birgisson’s voice comes in, disjointed shots of band members’ faces fade into one another, blurring the lines between real and imaginary, and demanding that the audience connect with the sound rather than the image.
The first song is almost uncomfortably intimate until a colour segment of the band on National Public Radio (NPR) in the 1990s breaks the tension. Although very short, the clip is enormously significant. NPR’s DJ asks the band if they were ever “normal,” or if they always sounded the way that they do. In addition to being comically awkward, the clip also visually confirms the film’s subject by showing all four members of the band in one frame. Suddenly, the rare access to Sigur Rós via this unsettling cinematic composition feels like a privilege. There is a long awkward pause, and then Morisset cuts to the title of the film and quickly back to black and white for the next song.
Morisett plays with this sense of intimacy throughout the entire film by pinning old colour footage against the dark live show. The audience gains inside access to the band, but sometimes this is more disorienting and overwhelming than exciting. In the black and white footage, the members of the band look like characters in a movie. Jonsi in particular exudes a Dracula-like aura in his knee-length coat and slicked back hair. But in an ill-fitting polo and cargo pants in the flashback clips, the frontman looks more like our geeky garage band friend than a commanding cinematic persona. The contrast between the two opposing film scenarios and the absence of conventional wide-pan shots help the audience engage with the music, as opposed to just the image of Sigur Rós.
The film showcases nine uninterrupted tracks, save for a couple rare video clips and broken-English sound bites. While the picture is artfully weathered, the sound is clear and resonant. The set list is comprised of songs from four of Sigur Rós’ studio albums. A high point in the film is the song “Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur” (With Me a Lunatic Sings) from the album Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. Thanks to two pianos, an array of percussion, and a short but heartwarming prelude of a young Sigur Rós setting up for a gig, “Inni Mér’s” upbeat sound emphatically stands out from its darker surroundings.
INNI is an exceptionally thought-provoking concert film in terms of cinematic form and style. Viewers are privileged and plagued by an intensely personal perspective. But in general, the film presents a unique and special perspective of Sigur Rós. Albeit uncomfortable at times, we cannot escape from the intimate world that Morisset creates. In the end, do we really want to?
