Drømmeland review – hermit and his smartphone in the Norwegian wilderness | Film

Having resolved to extricate himself from the chains of civilisation, Nils Leidal has taken solitary refuge among the mountains of Norway. While his basically furnished shed and daily rituals of scavenging and ice baths hark back to a simpler way of life, the sixtysomething is also glued to his internet-connected smartphone. The paradox is beguiling: how does one maintain a philosophy of self-sufficiency while simultaneously broadcasting his existence online?

Unfocused in its structure, Joost van der Wiel’s muddled documentary grapples with these fascinating contradictions on a superficial level. Apart from Nils’ vague distrust of the government, as evidenced in a video in which he burns his passport, the film offers little information about his background or the reasons behind his self-imposed exile. Punctuated by nondescript drone shots of the beautiful landscape, Drømmeland is mostly preoccupied with Nils’ more eccentric behaviour, like his rueful moaning to a lover on the phone, or his habit of hunting in the nude. Haphazardly edited with little consideration for his state of mind, these sequences come off as voyeuristic or plain strange.

In stark contrast to Lizzie MacKenzie’s affecting The Hermit of Treig, which portrayed the life of a recluse with vivid intimacy, Drømmeland gawks at its subject instead of meaningfully connecting with his unusual reality. The most dynamic confrontation occurs when police officers knock on Nils’ door to inquire about the death of his beloved horse, a reminder of the far-reaching power of state surveillance. These moments of interest, however, are few and far between; Drømmeland just doesn’t cohere into a perceptive look at the dilemmas that come with retreating from modern society.

Having resolved to extricate himself from the chains of civilisation, Nils Leidal has taken solitary refuge among the mountains of Norway. While his basically furnished shed and daily rituals of scavenging and ice baths hark back to a simpler way of life, the sixtysomething is also glued to his internet-connected smartphone. The paradox is beguiling: how does one maintain a philosophy of self-sufficiency while simultaneously broadcasting his existence online?

Unfocused in its structure, Joost van der Wiel’s muddled documentary grapples with these fascinating contradictions on a superficial level. Apart from Nils’ vague distrust of the government, as evidenced in a video in which he burns his passport, the film offers little information about his background or the reasons behind his self-imposed exile. Punctuated by nondescript drone shots of the beautiful landscape, Drømmeland is mostly preoccupied with Nils’ more eccentric behaviour, like his rueful moaning to a lover on the phone, or his habit of hunting in the nude. Haphazardly edited with little consideration for his state of mind, these sequences come off as voyeuristic or plain strange.

In stark contrast to Lizzie MacKenzie’s affecting The Hermit of Treig, which portrayed the life of a recluse with vivid intimacy, Drømmeland gawks at its subject instead of meaningfully connecting with his unusual reality. The most dynamic confrontation occurs when police officers knock on Nils’ door to inquire about the death of his beloved horse, a reminder of the far-reaching power of state surveillance. These moments of interest, however, are few and far between; Drømmeland just doesn’t cohere into a perceptive look at the dilemmas that come with retreating from modern society.