Songs of Earth

Beneath the cool-blue glaciers, gushing waterfalls and crisp green deciduous trees, we hear the soft tick-tick of 84-year-old Jørgen’s hiking poles as he cautiously navigates the boulders he encounters on his route. His daughter, director Margreth Olin, films him over the course of a year as he guides them through Oldedalen, a spectacular valley in Norway which he knows like the back of his hand.

Margreth left many years ago, but her parents and the generations before them have tended to stay put. They grew up, fell in love and raised families here. The occasional earthquakes and floods, and the resulting loss of loved ones, are all part of life in this capricious natural environment. As the elderly can be, her father is voluble when it comes to that sort of family tale, as well as trivia about the village and anecdotes from his own childhood. But he is quiet when he walks among the rocks and animals—and the drones.

The breathtaking shots of the landscape are mostly accompanied by sounds of nature transposed into melodies by the London Contemporary Orchestra. It’s a sweeping natural spectacle rooted in a personal history.