Speaking of which, Erlendur pulls up to a drive-in window and orders himself the aforementioned sheep's head to go. In the next scene, he tears it out of its styrofoam container, scoops out the eye first, and then licks his fingers.
There are menacing thugs and a perpetrator who is himself a victim.
Great fun but UGH! Apparently, the director Baltasar Kormakur is now filming an American version that takes place in Louisana.
Hlynur is about to turn thirty. He lives with his mother, who is divorced from his alcoholic father. Hlynur has no prospects. He watches a lot of porn and goes bars. When someone asks him what he does with himself all day, he says, "nothing." Pressed to elaborate, he replies, "A nothing kind of nothing." The Icelandic welfare system supports him.
What's a boy to do?
It turns out that Lola is pregnant with his child. He's infatuated with her yet somehow manages to get his life together--sort of--by the end.
Hlynur's wry observations (about the similarities between his mother's new-found lesbianism and migratory birds) and his rich fantasy life (he imagines taking a machine gun to the members of his family who are literally boring him to death at a Christmas gathering) save the film from collapsing under the weight of its own whimsy.
Surprisingly, both of these movies were directed by Baltasar Kormakur, who also starred in the only other Icelandic movie I've ever seen, a gem entitled Devil's Island.
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