Wistful love story deftly captures the ephemeral nature of time
Icelandic director Baltasar Kormákur, known for his edge-of-your seat survival adventure pictures like Everest and Adrift, might not be the first name you’d think of to adapt a romantic mystery for the big screen. But with Touch, his adaptation of fellow Icelander Olaf Olasson’s 2022 novel of the same name, Kormákur proves he’s just as skilled at plumbing the depths of the human heart as he is the drive of the human spirit.
The story follows Kristófer (Palmi Kormákur, the director’s son), an Icelandic student studying at the London School of Economics in the late 1960s. Disillusioned with academic life and merely talking about theories of revolution, Kristófer abandons his studies to join the proletariat as a dishwasher at a Japanese restaurant. There he meets and falls in love with Miko (Kôki), the free-spirited daughter of Takahashi-san (Masahiro Motoki), the restaurant’s kind owner.
The film seamlessly moves back and forth in time, juxtaposing Kristófer’s vibrant youth in the late 1960s with his present-day struggles in 2020 as a recently widowed man in his 70s (Egill Ólafsson). The evocative ‘60s soundtrack enriches the flashbacks, immersing us in a time of youthful rebellion and idealism. These scenes sharply contrast with those set in 2020, against the eerie backdrop of March of that year, as the world begins to grapple with the confusion, fear, and unknowns of the pandemic. That Kristófer decides to search for Miko, with whom he’s long since lost touch, during this time of heightened isolation only underscores his longing for the type of charged connection he felt as a young man. Does he find her? No spoilers here, but I urge you to see this lovely and heartfelt film to find out for yourself.
What I will share is that Kormákur masterfully captures the poignant dichotomy between Kristófer’s current reality and his nostalgic memories of his past, reminding us of the enduring impact of our formative years. Touch resonates as a meditation on the fleetingness of youth, the power of memory, and the often bittersweet nature of reflecting on our younger selves.
Kôki and Palmi Kormákur are beautifully matched, and have a palpable chemistry that makes us root for them. And while the younger Kormákur may have been cast thanks to his father, once American audiences see him, I have no doubt he’s about to have a huge career here. He has the same sort of magnetism and striking good looks that propelled Austin Butler to the public’s consciousness after just a few roles.
—————————-
Touch is in theaters now.
