Tales from the Gimli Hospital 1988

In the present day, the somber atmosphere of Gimli’s hospital is juxtaposed against the vibrant storytelling tradition of Iceland, as a dying mother shares an ancient tale with her two young children. The narrative unfolds like a worn tapestry, its threads woven from the very fabric of Gimli’s past. As the children listen with wide eyes, they are transported to a bygone era, where Einar, a fragile soul (Kyle McCulloch), succumbs to the ravages of a smallpox epidemic and finds himself amidst the makeshift wards of a hospital perched precariously above an animal stable.

Einar’s journey is one of quiet desperation, as he struggles to connect with his fellow patients and the beautiful young nurses who tend to them. His neighbor, Gunnar (Michael Gottli), proves to be a more adept storyteller and craftsman, using his remarkable skills in birch bark carving to win over the affections of their caretakers. Meanwhile, director Maddin makes a cameo appearance as a surgeon, operating with surgical precision while patients are distracted by a poorly acted puppet show.

As Einar’s story unfolds, so too does Gunnar’s complex history, marked by tragedy and loss. The discovery of Einar’s fish-carving shears sets in motion a chain of memories for Gunnar, who is forced to confront the painful legacy of his wife Snjófridur (Angela Heck). Through a series of flashbacks, we witness the tender courtship between Gunnar and Snjófridur, their love ultimately cut short by her untimely passing from smallpox. The poignant recollection is punctuated by Gunnar’s aboriginal friend’s traditional burial rites for Snjófridur, including the placement of tokens and gifts upon a raised platform.

Einar’s own dark past begins to emerge as he recounts how he came to possess Gunnar’s shears: a chance encounter with a beautiful woman’s corpse on a similar platform, where he pilfered her tokens and indulged in a macabre intimacy. The boundaries between life and death blur, as Einar’s tale becomes entwined with the mystical forces that govern Gimli’s hospital and its patients.

As Gunnar’s ire simmers, unable to immediately unleash vengeance on Einar, a chance conflagration erupts on the hospital rooftop. The Icelanders swiftly extinguish the blaze by pouring milk onto it, only for the liquid to drizzle down and blind Gunnar with its milky veil. Meanwhile, a recently deceased minstrel is laid to rest, his memory seemingly stirring Einar’s malevolent intent. He contemplates disfiguring Gunnar using the very shears pilfered from his wife’s lifeless body. As both men leave the hospital in a state of feverish agitation, they stumble upon Lord Dufferin delivering a public address. Einar’s hallucination takes hold, and he perceives the noble lord as the mythical Fish Princess, an apparition that further fuels his machinations against Gunnar.

The two enemies find themselves in a verdant field alongside a Shriners Highland Pipe Band, where they engage in a primal Glima Wrestle – a traditional test of strength wherein combatants grasp each other’s buttocks and take turns lifting their opponent into the air until one succumbs to exhaustion. The pair tears at each other’s garments, scrapes at their opponents’ behinds, and ultimately collapses from exhaustion.

In a later scene, Einar retreats to his humble abode – a shack doubling as a fish smokehouse – where he is visited by a recovered Gunnar, now accompanied by his new betrothed. As they stroll contentedly along the shores of Lake Winnipeg, Einar’s jealousy simmers, perpetuating his solitary existence as Einar the Lonely.

The film’s narrative jumps forward to the present day in Gimli, where children are informed that their mother has passed away. They plead with Amma, the storytelling elder, to assume the maternal role, only for her to decline but offer to visit if their father consents. The youngsters ask about the afterlife, and as Amma prepares to spin another yarn, the movie concludes on a poignant note.