Summerlight…and Then Comes the Night (2022) [Film Review]

Summerlight… and Then Comes the Night is the kind of film that refuses to be boxed in, and that’s exactly what makes it special. Directed by Elfar Adalstein and based on Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s novel, this Icelandic tragicomedy juggles surreal magic, the messiness of small-town life, and deep human tenderness. It’s not your run-of-the-mill indie, nor is it a sweeping epic—it’s an intimate portrait of village life, where the mundane and the mystical coexist in a strange, beautiful dance. It’s one of those movies that, if you give it the chance, will have plenty to say—and it’s well worth listening to.

Set in a small Icelandic village that’s far more complex than its quiet exterior suggests, Summerlight dives into the tangled web of the people who call it home. Everyone knows everyone, and secrets are more like shared stories than whispered confidences. It’s a place where heartbreak, joy, and odd occurrences intermingle—where an otherwise sleepy village turns out to be a stage for some of the most unexpected and touching moments of human connection. Adalstein captures the spirit of Stefánsson’s prose, creating a film that stitches together the ordinary with glimpses of the extraordinary.

The Fabric of Small-Town Life

The plot of Summerlight doesn’t follow a straight line. It’s more like a collage of moments—a kaleidoscope of memories pieced together. Think of it like sitting on a front porch, sipping tea, and watching life pass by, with all of its unexpected twists, deep laughs, and bittersweet sighs.

The characters are what bring the village to life.

The beauty of Summerlight is that it doesn’t attempt to neatly wrap up each storyline. It embraces the ambiguity, much like life itself, leaving the audience to find meaning in the pieces they are given.

A Delicate Balance of Tragedy and Humor

Summerlight shines in its balancing act between humor and the ever-present shadow of tragedy. Iceland, with its endless daylight in the summer and pitch-black winter nights, is the perfect metaphor for the film’s duality. Loneliness is a theme that runs deep throughout the story, but just as often, there are moments of absurdity that keep it from feeling too heavy.

Summerlight is A Patchwork of Lives

Summerlight is filled with characters that aren’t meant to be heroes; they’re just people—beautifully flawed, often contradictory, and driven by desires that they can’t always articulate.

Hrefna, the Widow, becomes the quiet heart of the village’s empathy. Even in her solitude, she reaches out to others—a garden party here, a spontaneous tea invitation there. These tiny gestures are what give her strength. She becomes a lighthouse in a storm, her house literally lighting up the dark, guiding the lost souls around her.

Iceland as a Character

Adalstein doesn’t just set the story in Iceland—he makes Iceland an integral character. The midnight sun, the sprawling fields, the distant mountains—all of it feels alive. The landscape isn’t just a backdrop; it’s a reflection of the characters’ inner worlds. The wide-open spaces and long days create a sense of timelessness, where days blur together, and the line between reality and the fantastical fades.

The film’s muted color palette evokes the feeling of flipping through an old photo album. Blues, greens, and grays dominate, giving the visuals a sense of nostalgia, even as you’re watching something new unfold. There’s an ever-present juxtaposition between the harsh beauty of Iceland and the intimacy of small-town life, and Adalstein’s camera captures both with equal tenderness.

Why Summerlight Works

Summerlight… and Then Comes the Night isn’t interested in giving you a neat, wrapped-up story with all the answers. It’s a film that breathes, ebbing and flowing with its characters’ lives. Its magic is in its authenticity—life isn’t linear, and people aren’t perfect. It’s in the small moments that the film finds its depth, in the tiny gestures and quiet connections that make up a life.

The humor in Summerlight is never mean-spirited. It’s dry, yes, but it’s humor born from understanding. It’s the kind of laughter that comes from recognizing ourselves in the absurdity of the everyday—the way we chase things we can never catch or find ourselves in ridiculous situations that somehow hold profound meaning.

And then there’s the ending—a quiet, seemingly anticlimactic note that leaves you with more questions than answers. But that’s exactly the point. The film isn’t about closure; it’s about the journey, the small, luminous moments that define us. It leaves you feeling like you’ve just spent time in this village, walked its streets, listened to its people, and glimpsed a little bit of magic in their lives.

Summerlight… and Then Comes the Night is a love letter to life’s oddities—an ode to the ways in which we stumble through, sometimes getting it right, sometimes failing spectacularly, but always, somehow, moving forward. It’s a film that captures the wonder and the weight of living, reminding us that even in the most mundane places, there’s magic to be found. You just have to be willing to see it.

Summerlight…and Then Comes the Night is now available to rent and buy at Fandango at Home

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