An aging Icelandic punk rocker, who grew up on one of the last farms in Reykjavík, now works at a quirky underground museum dedicated to the punk movement that once defined him. As he confronts long-buried regrets, he must decide whether to remain a relic of the past or embrace a future beyond nostalgia.
Growing up in rural 1960’s Iceland, Gunnþór Sigurðsson enjoyed his bucolic upbringing, wrestling with friends, blowing things up, and watching his father raise horses on the one of the last farms in Reykjavik.
In his later teens, devastated by the death of his best friend, Gunnþór left home to find himself, ultimately becoming a roadie for a couple bands, including Fræbbblarnir and The Outsiders. After a band failed to show for an event, Gunnþór and friends jumped up on stage and proceeded to annoy onlookers by playing instruments they didn’t know how to play, embracing the punk mantra, “It doesn’t matter what you can do, it matters what you do.”
It was this freedom of thought that allowed for music scene to thrive in Iceland. Once limited to either farming or fishing, young Reykjavikians decided to become punk rockers!
For Gunnþór, this period also came with the indulgences and abnormalities of punk rock life, full of highs and lows. He got married and became a father. Struggling wtih the responsibility of family life and adulthood, however, he found himself divorced and in search of direction.
One day, Gunnþór found himself walking through a once public toilette-turned-punk rock museum. Gunnþór realized that he not only knew as much or more about the exhibits he saw on the wall than the person working there, but he was part of the history that surrounded him. In that commode turned ode to rebellion and resistance, Gunnþór found a link to his past – an escape from confronting a past and an identity that didn’t seem to fit anymore. And that’s where we found him.
