On paper Nói Albinói might sound like yet another tale of adolescent alienation. Enduring an unsatisfactory relationship with his heavy-drinking father (Throstur Leo Gunnarsson), and in constant trouble at school, 17-year-old Nói (Tómas Lemarquis) feels bored and constrained by small town life. The arrival of a beautiful new girl, Iris (Elin Hansdóttir), revitalises Nói, and he plans for the pair of them to escape far away.

"FAR FROM FAMILIAR"

The film's setting, however, is far from familiar - namely a remote community in winter in the West fjords of Iceland, where the inhabitants are hemmed in by sea and mountains. (The opening shot sees Nói having to clear the head-high snow drift from the front door, immediately establishing his sense of imprisonment.)

And Nói himself is an idiosyncratic protagonist. Bald, ultra-pale, and bobble-hatted, he might be some sort of genius, which is the verdict of the visiting school psychiatrist. Or perhaps he's a rebel without a cause who's happier with his own company in an underground cellar or taking pot shots at stalactites in the great outdoors.

"OFF-KILTER"

Everybody here is slightly off-kilter, providing some droll humour: there's Nói's taciturn, shotgun-wielding granny (Anna Fridriksdóttir), glumly performing her aerobic exercises; the priest on the motorised sled giving instructions on the precise depth of a grave via a walkie talkie; and the lugubrious Kierkegaard-quoting bookseller, who muses: "Hang yourself and you'll regret it. Don't hang yourself and you'll regret it."

Contrasting the forbidding whiteness of the natural environment with sickly-green interiors, Kari incorporates a mellow score from his own band Slowblow. And despite having left clues along the way, this talented filmmaker still manufactures a powerful surprise with an apocalyptic resolution, which nevertheless manages to offer a glimpse of a better future.

In Icelandic with English subtitles.