Kalak is a film that was almost too dangerous to screen in Canada

When I sat down to speak with Kalak director Isabella Eklöf at the Festival du Nouveau Cinéma in October, she had a question for me: “Did you watch the censored version?”

The version screened at the festival was the original cut. The movie, based on a novel by Kim Leine (and inspired by his own life), begins with a shocking opening sequence. A man in his early 30s is lying on the couch when an older man, strapped to an oxygen tank, bends down and takes his cock in his mouth. We learn soon thereafter that this man was his father. 

The theatrical version of Kalak will feature this sequence, but in the rest of Canada, it will cut to black during the more graphic elements. “The sound remains,” explains Eklöf. “I think that’s an okay way to censor. It makes it obvious what’s going on.” She adds that it was a condition for the film’s theatrical release in Canada. Without the change, the film would never have opened in cinemas in Ontario or Alberta. Quebec will be the only place in Canada to screen the uncensored version.

The film follows Jan (Emil Johnsen), a nurse who is working in Nuuk, Greenland. He has a family and seems relatively happy, despite the sexual abuse he endured as a teenager. Yet, as the film begins, we sense that Jan’s life is beginning to fray at the edges. His attempt to connect more deeply with the Indigenous population of Greenland leads him to undertake an increasingly liberated view of sex that threatens the quiet comfort of his life. The careful balance he’s constructed begins to spiral out of control as his behaviour grows more and more reckless. 

Eklöf and Kim Leine worked together as co-writers to adapt his novel, inspired by his time living in Greenland. “He experienced these things. His experiences are dramatized, of course, but it’s faithful to the spirit of the book,” she says. “I actually wrote to him to ask if anyone optioned the book before I even read it.” Kalak is Eklöf’s second feature film, following her critically acclaimed 2018 debut, Holiday. It hits on a lifelong obsession in her work. “I’m addicted to the Northern Hemisphere,” she explains. “I come from the middle of Sweden, but I’ve been north a lot. There’s something about the mentality, the harshness, the silence and the stoicism that I’m really impressed by.”

Though self-governing, Greenland is officially part of the kingdom of Denmark, and it’s very rare for feature films to be shot there. “It’s a huge island,” says Eklöf, “but a small community. People are trying to survive off a rock by a cold sea.” Making a film there was a challenge. Everything had to be shipped in from Europe and most of the equipment is too heavy to transport by air. “It had to be shipped in the fall and then it has to stay all winter because you can’t ship after the ice settles. It’s very expensive,” she says. 

Eklöf notes that there are other productions that have shot in Greenland, but she feels many of them do a disservice to the location and the people who live there. Many of them, she feels, offer too much of an outsider’s opinion. “They’ve been very Danish-centric and, to be honest, the way the Danish Film Institute has been structured has been kind of racist,” she says. She believes, though, that things are changing.

Though centered around a white European character, Kalak doesn’t present Jan as a hero. He’s flawed, and though informed by curiosity, his relationship with the Indigenous people of Greenland is presented quite critically. The title takes its inspiration from a Greenlandic word with a double meaning — “true” and “dirty” — that he takes great pride in being called. His navigating, mostly through sex, of the community is one that veers from a prideful white saviour complex to outright exploitation and abuse. In one of the film’s best scenes, he confesses the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father to his younger girlfriend. Unimpressed, she asks him if he believes he’s the only person who suffered. Rather than becoming a moment to learn and grow though, it’s as if he’s unable to hear anything she’s saying. His behaviour only becomes more self-centered.

“Jan’s victimhood becomes a central metaphor within the film. The way he was victimized by his father, an authority figure, mirrors the way the people of Greenland have been victimized by the Danes,” says Eklöf. “Jan deeply identifies himself with the community he finds himself in. He has been traumatized to a certain degree and it’s been normalized. He becomes boundaryless and a little crazy. Many people in the community have been through similar experiences. It’s normalized and he doesn’t feel like such an alien because everyone’s been through similar things.”

The film was shot in beautiful 16mm. “A fucking stupid choice,” laughs Eklöf, as the remote location meant they had to send the footage to Amsterdam to be developed. “We had to wait two weeks to get any footage back. That was a gamble.” The effect, though, is worthwhile. It creates a warm sensuality. Shot using almost natural light, the film is almost ethereal.

“We tried to capture something intimate. That was very important to me. The mistake people make is they go up north and they have these drone shots over glaciers. That’s just not part of people’s experiences living in Greenland. That’s not what they see. What you really have are these tiny communities that are almost imprisoned by nature. You can’t even go to the next village by foot. You will die.”

The film uses the natural environment to amplify the nightmare that Jan descends into. As he tries to escape the heavy influence of his father’s abuse, he moves further and further away from the larger communities. It creates a sense of intimacy but also an increased sense of solitude and alienation. Kalak may be difficult to watch, but the film’s unrelenting commitment to honesty makes the experience worthwhile. It’s a movie that is unabashed about the cruelty of the world, but one that similarly shows its beauty and warmth.

Behind the scenes, Eklöf says the darkness of the subject matter didn’t really have a negative impact on the mood, though. “The crew have told me they miss it so much. I think that’s something that happens to a lot of Greenlandic people as well. If you go to such a tiny community, you’re forced together and you develop an almost visceral connection to the place and you’re going to feel a part of you is missing when you leave.” ■

Kalak opens in Montreal theatres on Friday, Nov. 29. 

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