Ballad Film
The Gullspång Miracle begins with documentarian Maria Fredriksson instructing her subjects, Norwegian sisters Kari and May, to do multiple takes of their opening scene—a stark vision of a filmmaker trying to manage her non-fiction material. Yet no matter how hard one attempts to orchestrate real life, it has a habit of evolving in its own insane manner—and that certainly proves to be the case with this film, whose astonishing twists and turns transform what appears to be one sort of unbelievable fable into an altogether different eye-opener.
Craziest of all, however, is that by the time it reaches its wholly unexpected conclusion, Fredriksson’s documentary suggests that perhaps our stories aren’t governed by fate, chance, or a higher power. Instead, with a bit of effort (some of it honest, some of it not), we have the power to write the narratives we want—or, at least, best suit our needs.
A standout at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival (where it premieres on June 11), The Gullspång Miracle proceeds from a flabbergasting development. During a visit to see her sister Kari in Sweden, May hurt her tailbone while riding a water slide at a local amusement park. Raised a devout Christian, May took this as a sign that God wanted her to remain in Sweden (a pious notion no doubt reinforced by the ride’s car, which was shaped like a whale). She persuaded Kari to help her find an apartment and, just as importantly, a particular still-life painting to hang in it. Visiting one such residence in Gullspång, they found the exact painting May had envisioned, along with another two beside it. “Jesus Christ, there are three of them,” Kari thought, taking this as a symbolic representation of the holy trinity. “It means something!” Both women were sure a momentous event was about to occur.