TIFF 2023: Songs of Earth | Interview of Margreth Olin
Margreth Olin shares her profound connection to nature, the personal journey that inspired Songs of Earth, and the artistic choices behind its stunning visuals and evocative soundscapes in this in-depth interview.
Songs of Earth, a captivating and visually stunning documentary, recently made its North American Premiere at the prestigious 48th Toronto International Film Festival. This extraordinary film, directed by Margreth Olin, delves into the profound relationship between humanity and nature, drawing from Olin’s personal experiences and her unique access to her parents’ deep-rooted passion for the environment. In our exclusive interview with Margreth Olin, we had the privilege of discussing the inspiration behind Songs of Earth and its intimate portrayal of the filmmaker’s journey through life, loss, and a profound connection to the natural world. We explore her approach to crafting the film’s breathtaking visuals, the meticulous sound design that immerses audiences in nature’s rhythms, and the emotional depth that elevates this documentary to a heartfelt ode to both nature and her parents.
Mehdi Balamissa: How did your love for nature develop, and what inspired you to create this film?
Margreth Olin: Well, it all began when I was six years old. My father took me to the Jostedal glacier, nestled amidst the valleys of Oldedalen and Briksdal in Norway. It’s the largest inland glacier in Europe. My dad introduced me to that wondrous place, and back then, the glacier was much larger than it is today. We sat there, and when the wind swept through the valley, finding its way into the crevices of the ice, it created the most enchanting sounds. I remember asking my father, “Is there an orchestra playing deep within?“ because it sounded like music. Instead of dismissing my imagination, my father responded, “Can you hear them too?” Whenever I walked with my parents in the mountains, they would ask me, “What do you see in the mountains?” I would reply, “I can see a dog, a horse, or even a dinosaur…” To my delight, they could see those creatures too. We shared the wonders and mysteries of nature. While my mother told me fairy tales and sang me to sleep, my father took me into the embrace of nature, his way of sharing his own kind of fairy tales with me. Throughout my life, I carried the idea that someday, I’d attempt to convey the profound connection I felt with nature through film, so others could reconnect as well.
The word “ecology” has its roots in “oikos,” meaning “home.” Nature is our home. I recognize that many scientists, activists, and filmmakers document the climate crises, presenting the facts, but often these narratives are fraught with fear, especially among the younger generation. I believe we protect what we love. I wanted to offer a different perspective on this issue. Making a film like this is undoubtedly timely, but I wanted to make it personal by tapping into something unique I had access to – my parents and their passion for nature. If we could gather all politicians around a campfire and speak with a different voice, we might be able to achieve something.
We premiered the film in Norway a few days before a political election. Simultaneously, we screened it in various cities throughout the country and invited local politicians to attend. They were encouraged to share their thoughts on questions like “What does nature mean to you?”, “What did nature mean to your ancestors?”, and “Where is your hometown?”
Mehdi Balamissa: What led you to follow in your father’s footsteps and film him?
Margreth Olin: Eight years ago, my partner suffered a stroke, and the situation was critical for an extended period. Against the doctors’ predictions, he managed to survive, but we were compelled to redefine our lives after numerous surgeries. We had plans for the future, but they had to be reimagined. After five years of battling for his life and recovery, I felt utterly drained. I went to my father, confessing that I no longer knew how to navigate my life or accept the unfairness of what had happened to my partner. It was an incredibly difficult time for me. My father’s response, as it often was, was, “We should go for a walk.” Walking was his answer to everything. He proposed that we walk for a year. We embarked on this journey in spring when life blooms anew, and each season unveiled its unique wonders.
There are several reasons why I wanted to create this film, Songs of Earth, but on a deeper level, it’s also about preparing myself for the inevitable loss of my parents. To me, this film is a meditation on death. As I followed my father for a year, I began to see that, like his ancestors, he had left his mark on the nature he had traversed throughout his life. The notion of losing my parents transformed into a form of acceptance. During that year, my father’s response to my fear of the possibility of losing anything at any moment was that life is bigger than death because there will always be a new spring.
On August 5th, 2023, we premiered the film in Norway through ten outdoor screenings across the country. We involved the community by asking them where they wanted to host screenings, selecting ten locations in collaboration with outdoor organizations in Norway and the WWF. In Southern Norway, we screened the film at a lighthouse on an island, while up north, it was shown in a cave. I, along with my parents, was in Oldedalen where we shot the film. Despite only 70 people residing there, 600 people attended the screening. We were incredibly fortunate to have warm, dry weather across the entire country. We began the film simultaneously at 11 pm. At the end of the Oldedalen screening, my parents received a standing ovation, and I presented them each with a bouquet of flowers. Even though my father appeared more on screen than my mother, she played a significant role in my previous film, which centered on my mother’s youngest brother. I wanted to convey that I loved them equally, hence the identical bouquets. After the screening, we returned to the farmhouse where my father was born and where my parents spent their wedding night. Two hours later, my mother suddenly felt unwell, collapsed on the floor due to a cerebral hemorrhage, and passed away. This happened only five weeks ago. We were in the midst of the film’s launch, and I contemplated postponing or canceling everything. However, my father urged me not to, believing that it wouldn’t get any easier in three or six months. The film is, in many ways, a love letter to nature and my mother. My father offered to accompany me to the screenings because he understood how challenging it would be for me. In a way, I had been preparing for the loss of a loved one, as we had the opportunity to discuss death openly. In the film, my mother expressed her desire to be the first to go, which was the only time my father could recall her wanting to be first.
Mehdi Balamissa: Could you share your approach to the visual narrative of the film and how you captured those breathtaking landscapes?
Margreth Olin: I selected Lars Erlend Tubaas Øymo as the director of photography. It was important to me that he wasn’t a nature photographer, so we could develop a unique visual language together. I’m from the region, unlike him, and I had been collecting images and emotions from this area all my life. I needed someone to help me translate those feelings. I also wanted him to approach the surroundings with fresh eyes, like a child awestruck by the world around him. As a documentary filmmaker, I understand that access is everything, and I had exclusive access to my parents. Additionally, time and patience usually prove to be incredibly rewarding. While we roamed the landscape, if the mist descended, painting beautiful shapes and forms, we dedicated hours to capturing it, seeing such conditions as a gift. “This is what we have today, so let’s work with it,” became our mantra. We couldn’t follow a strict plan, but we had the freedom to film intuitively, embracing the essence of being in nature. It was essential to frame shots where my father appeared minuscule against the backdrop of the imposing natural world. I take immense pride in the work of my team, consisting of four members: the director of photography, a drone photographer, a sound recordist, and myself. We were fortunate to work with a helicopter and a diver for specific shots, and I also enlisted three nature photographers to focus on birds.
Mehdi Balamissa: Editing must have been a crucial phase after accumulating such a wealth of footage.
Margreth Olin: While working on the film, I had a deep-seated sense of how I wanted it to feel. I ended up with 200 hours of material. I sifted through it and, long before we began structuring the film, I created sequences using the best clips from each season – spring, followed by the best of the best, and then the absolute best of the best, and so on. This process resulted in 15 to 20 hours of footage for each season, which I then handed over to my editor, Michal Leszczylowski.
Mehdi Balamissa: Could you tell us more about the sound design?
Margreth Olin: Our sound recordist, Andreas Lindberg Svensson, did exceptional work. He lowered microphones into the glacier, capturing the subtle nuances of the ice world. In the film, you may occasionally hear the ticking of a clock. It’s not a result of a creative sound designer but a testament to our dedication to recording the transformation of the wind into musical tones. The ticking sound represents the rhythm of the melting water, akin to a heartbeat. We were elated to capture this detail. Later, composer Rebekka Karijord was presented with the best sound recordings and tasked with transforming the sounds of nature, including the wind and the glacier, into human-made music. This led to various experiments in utilizing instruments to recreate nature’s sounds. Rebekka composed a score, and we traveled to London to record it with the London Contemporary Orchestra. Ultimately, I discovered the orchestra playing in the glacier, much like the one I imagined hearing when I was six years old. It was an extraordinarily beautiful experience.
Acknowledgements: Margreth Olin, Susan Norget.
