Icelandic filmmaker Baltasar Kormákur is a rare sort these days. Here is a director who has built a successful, decades-long career making solid, genre-heavy programmers (see Contraband, 2 Guns, Adrift, Beast) while often returning to Iceland to put in solid work (see The Sea, The Deep). There was a time that this kind of output was the lifeblood of the industry. His type nearly extinct now, Kormákur beats on, telling stories for adults.
His new film, Touch, fits right into the mold. Talk about a relic: a mid-budget romantic drama released in theaters! Written by Kormákur and Ólafur Jóhann Ólafsson (based on Ólafur’s 2022 novel of the same name), it tells the story of Kristófer (Egill Olafsson), an older widow who shuts down his restaurant in Iceland and travels to Japan in an attempt to find Miko, the love of his life from half a century ago.
It’s the beginning of 2020 and COVID-19 is swiftly shutting the world down. We watch a frankly brazen Kristófer travel from hotel to airplane to taxi to hotel with barely a care of the virus or its dangers. Then brief flashbacks and worried phone calls from his adult daughter inform us the man is terminally ill. His days are quite literally numbered, his memory is fading, and his doctor has informed him to tie up any lose ends he might have. He’s determined to learn why exactly Miko disappeared all those years ago. And to see her one more time.
The 2020 search for Miko is cross-cut with scenes from 50 years prior, in which a young Kristófer (Palmi Kormákur, the director’s handsome son) literally stumbles into a Japanese restaurant in London after deciding to drop out of school for political reasons. Once in the restaurant, he bumps into Miko (Kôki, enchanting here) and decides he might want the vacant job in the kitchen. He quickly befriends the owner, Takahashi-san (Masahiro Motoki), who’s also Miko’s father. Of course, when Kristófer and Miko begin a relationship in secret, things become more complicated.
This is standard-though-welcome fare. Egill Olafsson is a compelling lead. He’s described as a “gentle soul” in the film and plays it as such. Aloof, polite, and intelligent, here is a character who’s led a seemingly happy life, now burdened by the ravages of time and the undeniability of regret. Touch is beautiful, lensed by Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson with an autumnal glow. There’s is something interesting about the world falling into a sad emptiness while this lone man searches for the one that got away.
In flashback we learn that Miko’s family emigrated to England from Hiroshima. She calls herself a “hibakusha,” (atomic bomb survivor). The baggage of that history hangs over the narrative, adding depth and context to a somewhat familiar Romeo and Juliet plot. Things are revealed, loose ends are tied, and Kormákur keeps it all moving at a brisk pace given the evolving intrigue. The word “lovely” feels old-fashioned, but it’s appropriate here. This is a lovely film.
Touch is now in theaters.