An ancient way of life is struggling to survive on the fringes of the Greenlandic icecap.
This quiet documentary introduces us to the Inuit settlement of Niaqornat, population 59, which for millennia has hunted seal, whale, and walrus in the island's western fjords, lighting its homes with burning blubber until 1988, when electricity arrived. (The internet has inevitably followed.)
Here we meet some of the important people in the village. Town fathers are working to revive a fish-processing factory that could prevent eventual abandonment of Niaqornat. Then there's the cheery bucket man who collects sewage from colorful, boxy homes along the fjord.
Niaqornat's oldest male, raised on fruits of the sea, is quite an endearing character, admitting with a grin, "I'm not very interested in vegetables; (they're) like grass." The local teacher, asking his soft-spoken students about their dreams, tells a kid who wants to be a pilot that he'll have to get good at English and go abroad to study.
Most compelling is a lonely teenager named Lars who dislikes blood and eschews a hunter's life. In his frustration, he carves amulets -- "When you have bad feelings, you want to replace them, and you create tupilaks," he says -- and by film's end, he's lifting off in a chopper in search of love and culture in larger Uummannaq.
Icebergs shimmer exquisitely in sparkling waters, as locals lament that the ice is thinner than in the past, making polar-bear sighting rare. Still, the filmmakers capture applauding villagers on shore as a hunter returns with a freshly butchered white ursine, whose meat is distributed to all.
The matriarch of the village quietly scoffs at a photo of "silly lady" Brigitte Bardot, whom she says "damages fur sales."
Despite challenges posed by climate and globalization, the quest for survival continues, leaving one worried wife to admit, "I remain hopeful while I wait."
Will a shrinking world help to save this unique environment? We observe how a couple-dozen tourists are ferried from a cruise ship and buy little gifts of handcrafts and such. They seem quietly respectful, and let's hope they stay that way.
One wishes this hardy community well.
This quiet documentary introduces us to the Inuit settlement of Niaqornat, population 59, which for millennia has hunted seal, whale, and walrus in the island's western fjords, lighting its homes with burning blubber until 1988, when electricity arrived. (The internet has inevitably followed.)
Here we meet some of the important people in the village. Town fathers are working to revive a fish-processing factory that could prevent eventual abandonment of Niaqornat. Then there's the cheery bucket man who collects sewage from colorful, boxy homes along the fjord.
Niaqornat's oldest male, raised on fruits of the sea, is quite an endearing character, admitting with a grin, "I'm not very interested in vegetables; (they're) like grass." The local teacher, asking his soft-spoken students about their dreams, tells a kid who wants to be a pilot that he'll have to get good at English and go abroad to study.
Most compelling is a lonely teenager named Lars who dislikes blood and eschews a hunter's life. In his frustration, he carves amulets -- "When you have bad feelings, you want to replace them, and you create tupilaks," he says -- and by film's end, he's lifting off in a chopper in search of love and culture in larger Uummannaq.
Icebergs shimmer exquisitely in sparkling waters, as locals lament that the ice is thinner than in the past, making polar-bear sighting rare. Still, the filmmakers capture applauding villagers on shore as a hunter returns with a freshly butchered white ursine, whose meat is distributed to all.
The matriarch of the village quietly scoffs at a photo of "silly lady" Brigitte Bardot, whom she says "damages fur sales."
Despite challenges posed by climate and globalization, the quest for survival continues, leaving one worried wife to admit, "I remain hopeful while I wait."
Will a shrinking world help to save this unique environment? We observe how a couple-dozen tourists are ferried from a cruise ship and buy little gifts of handcrafts and such. They seem quietly respectful, and let's hope they stay that way.
One wishes this hardy community well.