In one of the early scenes of the Icelandic Foreign Language Oscar submission Börn (Children), two youths break into an older man’s home after he has – unwisely – answered the door. Rummaging through his stack of obscure DVDs, the most obnoxious of the two (played to perfection by 2007 Shooting Star Gísli Örn Gardarsson) yells: “What's this? Black and white arty-farty shit?” He might as well be talking directly to the audience. The new film from director Ragnar Bragason (2000’s Fíaskó/Fiasco) was made together with the actors of theatre group Vesturport, using methods inspired by Leigh, Godard and Cassavetes. Like the films of these filmmakers, it has a freshness and sense of character truth that more scripted projects often lack. Arthouses, especially in Northern Europe, might find in Börn a welcome "arty-farty" addition to their line-up of Scandinavian family dramas.

Karítas (Nína Dögg Filippusdóttir) is a single mother of four who desperately tries to make ends meet but is almost forced to sell drugs she steals from the hospital where she works as a nurse. Worrying about money and her immoral behaviour at the same time, she is almost oblivious to the problems of her children, especially her oldest son Gudmundur (Andri Snaer Helgason, a natural), who is bullied at school and misses a father figure in his life. The 12-year-old’s only friend is Marino (Olafur Darri Olafsson, the Icelandic twin brother to Denmark's Nicolas Bro), who lives in the same building with his single mother, loves to play football -- and is at least three times his age.

Parent-offspring relations are not a new theme in Icelandic cinema (or even Icelandic art in general), but Börn offers a fresh approach to the subject, with some wonderfully drawn and well-acted characters, and the black and white cinematography from lenser Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson lending Iceland a look it has rarely had before (despite the setting and obvious black-white contrasts, there is no snow in sight).

Like the successful Icelandic teenage rebellion story Nói albínói (Noi, the Albino) from a few years back, the story is also laced with a particular kind of dry humour: Marino’s pet goldfish is called Bob 13, he tells Gudmundur. “Bob 10 lasted for only a week”. Eventually, Marino will take the goldfish for a walk, but unfortunately this storyline -- like the fish and its owner -- never seems really sure where it is headed, if not to place Marino (somewhat self-consciously) where he needs to be for further, increasingly dramatic developments to take place.

This is one of the very few missteps of the film, however, which is mostly filled with exquisitely observed and acted characters. One of the most resonant scenes in any film this year is the scene in which the young Gudmundur’s father unexpectedly turns up at Karítas’ door. The single mother has already told her son that the man is bad news, but just watch what they are saying (and especially what they are not saying), and the way they move around each other like wounded animals, trying to assess whether it is better to attack or to withdraw.

These two people have a tangible history together, something painful and ugly, and yet they both seem to realise that they do have something special in common, something that binds them: their son. In Börn, parents try to do what is best for their children, often ending up making things worse. In realising this, Börn has fathomed one of the major sources of conflict between different generations with careful precision.

A twin project called Parents in English, again directed by Ragnar Bragason and using the same methods, is expected to be released soon.

Boyd van Hoeij cited Börn as one of the Ten Best Films of 2006. 

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