The Mountain’s Ísadóra Bjarkardóttir Barney Talks Music, Film and Family

You might recognise Ísadóra Bjarkardóttir Barney from the star-studded Robert Eggers epic The Northman, where she had a small role opposite the likes of Alexander Skarsgård, Nicole Kidman, Anya Taylor-Joy and Willem Dafoe. Or you might know her as the daughter of Icelandic singer-songwriter Björk and American contemporary artist Matthew Barney.

Wherever you might know her from, her first major role in small Icelandic production The Mountain showcases both her acting and singing prowess. Not only is the script in Icelandic, she sings in Icelandic, too.

The Mountain is a family drama where the dynamic between career-driven astronomer Maria, her listless but dutiful husband Atli and their adult daughter Anna (Bjarkardóttir Barney), an emerging musician, is shattered after a mountain trip gone wrong.

Ahead of the film’s showing at the Hurtigruten Scandinavian Film Festival, Broadsheet spoke with Bjarkardóttir Barney about The Mountain and its universal themes.

What did you learn from your small part in a big film like The Northman that you brought to this bigger part in a smaller film?
My character in The Northman was maybe a bit less developed for the audience to see, but there was definitely a lot of historical research put into that role. She was based on a real character in the sagas who was a force of a young woman.

In The Mountain, Anna is also kind of teetering on this edge of being, on the precipice of really big life decisions – and having to take responsibility for her father’s questionable decisions – but then at the same time being a wild child.

The experience was maybe similar on my end. Even if it was a small role in The Northman, there was a lot of thought put into it. In The Mountain, there were a lot more cooks in that kitchen thinking about who Anna is and what path she takes and how she relates to the rest of the characters.

How did you find acting in Icelandic versus English?
I think any bilingual person will say they have a different persona in each language and a different relation to the self. It’s my mother’s side [Björk] that’s Icelandic and my father’s side [Barney] that’s American and relates to the English-speaking world, so it’s also a masculine versus feminine energy. With Anna, she has this rugged edge to her – she takes control when she has to. The Icelandic has that staccato of brute force to it that serves the character.

Which parts of the film did you find more Icelandic and which parts were more universal?
The father and the daughter’s grieving journeys start in very different directions: he’s in the anger and she’s in the sorrow, and they keep missing each other. Then at the climax of the film, they meet at this point on the mountain where he wants to keep going through the storm and she’s fed up with how childish he’s being and how he’s kind of lost in his own anger. The fact that their paths converge with the relentlessness of the Icelandic weather is so perfect. That’s something instilled in the Icelandic ethos, that no matter what you do, at a certain point you bow down to the landscape.

What’s more universal is fleeing difficult feelings and making art out of it – they both have their music.

I understand the songs performed in the film are your own. Were the songs written for the film or did you have them already?
That slower ballad [that Anna sings in grief] was a demo I had written years ago that I’d never really done anything with. I had to change a few words in the lyrics but then it worked out. The punkier upbeat one made a big change from the demo to the film version. In the demo it has this ambient, almost dreamlike feel to it and it has these strange time signatures, and then we flip that into an upbeat pop-punk kind of thing, which I think was more her [Anna] than me. Some things needed to be twisted to give it to her.

A third one was written by myself and Vilberg Andri [Pálsson] and Örn Gauti [Jóhannsson], my castmates. Those were really fun sessions in the studio. I’m not a disciplined musician at all, but then sitting down with the boys in the studio – serious musicians – I learnt a lot. They have discipline in that medium and think about it like a puzzle, something to solve. Or like the song already exists, we just need to uncover it.

What do you find more fulfilling, acting or music?
I have a complicated relationship with music because the very few times I’ve performed my own music as myself I’ve been like, “This is between me and myself – why are all these people here?” So I think this film was actually perfect, because I got to be in character. If I were to make more music, there would have to be some kind of stage persona or character to bridge that gap between myself and the audience. My heart belongs to the stage and to theatre, always. The third option is it could be both. It could be a musical.

How did you find shooting on location?
There was a moment when we set up our base at this ski lodge and everyone was walking around and having lunch and it felt like a school trip or something. The joy of making Icelandic cinema is everyone knows each other – it’s small, it’s tight-knit. People believe in what they’re doing, but it’s not so serious that we’re not all family here. Even the biggest productions here are, in any other country, super indie. I feel really lucky to be part of this industry here at home.

What do you hope people take away from this film?
I hope that people feel less shame over their journey of grief. A lot of these stories are told in a way where it’s virtuous to go through something terrible, but we need to give those tough moments some grace. The path towards some kind of peace is supposed to be messy.

The Mountain is showing at the Hurtigruten Scandinavian Film Festival now. Browse the program and book tickets online.*

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