Rating: 7 out of 10.

We are small in a big world.

Margreth Olin’s Songs of Earth is a love letter to her mountain valley home in Norway through the eyes of her parents (Jørgen and Magnhild) and a history that goes back generations. It’s also a love letter to them via the serene vistas of nature’s wondrous landscapes—leaves and ice fading into and out against the cracked skin of farmhands that have known no other place.

How have people impacted the region through its seasonal changes (the towering Spruce planted by Jørgen’s ancestor)? How has the volatility of time impacted them (whole families wiped off the map by landslides)? Olin showcases the beauty of both the creation and destruction wrought by our symbiotic relationship with the Earth, taking us on a journey through gorgeous sights and sounds that, like her mom and dad, might not remain much longer.

It’s therefore as much a spotlight as it is a memorial. “Our first love was nature” and yet here we are letting it die. The film’s success is thus tied to what you’re willing to give it. Do you share or ignore these sentiments? Is it confirming your truth or falling on deaf ears? In the end, regardless of its message for the future or its personal ode to Olin’s heritage, you cannot deny the breathtaking imagery, effective score, and soulful delivery. If nothing else, its aesthetics will astound.


A scene from SONGS OF EARTH; courtesy of TIFF.

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