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Why are we filled with awe when presented with scenes of nature? Why are plants and flowers so comforting to us? What does it mean emotionally to have a pet in your home? The attempt to explain that deep resonant bond and connection between human beings, other animals, plants and all sorts of living systems is what is known as the biophilia hypothesis, and the exploration of these themes was the inspiration for Icelandic legend Björk’s 2011 album Biophilia. After years of touring the album, an iPad app and a special “making of” program with David Attenborough, the project comes to a triumphant end with this ninety-seven minute concert film that pushes the magic of spectacle to its limits with a full live performance of the album, plus a few surprise tracks.
Filmed during the final night of the tour in London, the crowd is assembled in darkness around the ring shaped stage which is centered in the room and has no real front or back. Björk is in full theatrical mode here, her hair coloured in the oranges reds and blues of a cosmic nebula and her vocals switching effortless from thunderous the pained whispers when necessary. She is joined on stage by a sizeable army of blonde women straight from Iceland, who participate in almost every song and are given a lot to do — everything from choir singers to backing dancers. The choir really add to the reverence of her performance and seem to come from nowhere, sometimes surrounding Björk and other times retreating to the sidelines. A sparsity of musicians also join her onstage, playing electronic pads and percussion instruments, while a self playing piano and a giant Tesla coil add to the weird and wonderful sounds that Björk draws from.
Visually, the film is superb. The stage has above it on all sides monitors which show the concert audience custom made visuals, but those sitting in a cinema get a real treat when some clever editing means that the darkened ceiling above the arena becomes a screen for visuals in and of itself. At one point during the song Moon, the camera cuts away to a wide shot of the stage with a massive, almost three-dimensional image of our own moon rotating just over the heads of Björk and her musicians. I almost looked up above me as the 3D effect made it seem like the camera were diving underneath the celestial body. The Tesla coil comes alive on the beautifully raucous song Thunderbolt and delivers an electric performance as co-directors Peter Strickland and Nick Fenton pile up frame after frame of jump cuts and flashing lights. Björk’s lyrics, occasionally swaying into the territory of highly emotional science lecture (“As fast as your fingernail grows. The Atlantic Ridge drifts.”) are perfectly matched with visuals that while stirring, are not too knowing or on the nose.
The film stumbles slightly from the same problems that have befallen many other concert films that showcase mostly one album. While some of the excitement of opening songs lead to a slight lull about half an hour through, and with similar themes on multiple songs, it would be easy to get bored in a film such as this and indeed those who go into the cinema thinking they’ll get a greatest hits collection will leave disappointed. Biophilia: Live excels however is in the execution of its driving themes. The camera is constantly moving, the choir is a delightful unpredictable pleasure and even the smallest of touches linger with the viewer for a long time.
The film manages to run the gauntlet between showcasing the power of nature through producing lightning on stage while also highlighting the beauty and that can come from the toil of people. At one point during a particularly loud song the camera cuts to the delicate percussion playing of musician Manu Delago; in amongst the heavy drumming of the track we see him simply sitting, slamming his fist against a metal dome. Physical movement is an important motif in the film, and the slamming of fists into metal drums, the swaying of the choir and the slapping of many music making iPads are in stark contrast to the piano standing alone on stage with no one playing it.
Attenborough brings us through the start of this journey, telling us to sit back and enter the world of Biophilia while vivid landscapes, images of the cosmos and microscopic life are flashed in front of our eyes. Upon leaving the film, it feels like some deep but natural wonder has been seeded inside you. The connections between music, nature and humanity realised, Biophilia: Live sends off 2011’s album with a sense of rejuvenation, renewal and raw energy. Hopefully we won’t have to wait for another Icelandic financial crisis to hear from Björk again, but in the meantime this is a more than fitting parting gift.
Biophilia opens exclusively at the IFI on 17 October.