Jar City

Category: dribblings

I’m reading a book at the moment called Arctic Chill by Arnaldur Indriðason. On the cover of this book is a gold stamp that states: CWA Gold Dagger Award-winning Author of Jar City. So I was all, hmm, Jar City? Why does that sound familiar?

Turns out it  sounds familiar because Netflix was all, “You seem to like the Nordic shit, try this.”

Oh Netflix, how well you know me.

So I watched Jar City. The books are Icelandic, so I’m assuming the movie was too. It takes place in Iceland, anyway. The plot is perfect for Iceland (or any other cut-off region with a small population, I guess.) because it deals with a genetic disorder and blah blah blah you can see how that would only work in a place like that and impossible for say, anywhere here in the U.S.. So I was fascinated by that.

Unfortunately, the only thing I will probably take away from that movie is this one part. And it had nothing to do with the plot or murder or anything important. And as soon as it happened I realized this and that I’m a stupid, spoiled American white girl. Which is fine, I can’t change any of that. But still, you don’t like to think of yourself as shallow or whatnot and maybe I should explain this a bit better so you can see what I’m talking about.

There’s a small part in the movie where the main detective guy, Erlendur, goes through a drive-thru type food place. The girl at the window recognizes him and he orders “the usual”. I get why this happens. It establishes that he’s a single guy who rarely gets a home-cooked meal. He eats a lot of take-out food. It works, right? Let’s move on, he’ll take the food home and eat it by himself, probably straight out of the container or something, right?

So he orders “the usual” and i’m all, ‘gotcha, the usual.’

then he adds, “a sheep’s head.”

then i was all, “wait, did he just order a sheep’s head? like a sheep’s head? the head of a sheep? Oh, it MUST be some kind of crazy european meat pie or something, and NOT like a, sheep’s head. right?”

no. the girl hands him half of a sheep’s head wrapped in plastic.

See what I mean about my American White Girl snapping her head up?

Then the movie shows him going home and eating it. And he doesn’t eat it standing at the kitchen counter either. no, he sits on his couch and unwraps this half of a sheep’s head, which I assume to be a boiled sheep’s head?

I’ve never seen a boiled sheep’s head, because I live in the 21st century, but i don’t know any other way you could cook half a sheep’s head in such a way that it would remain on the skull, you know?

And the eye.

I was all, “Jesus H. McGillicuddy! The least they could’ve done is remove the eye before cooking it!”

because there it was staring up at him. and it was all kind of smooshed, milky-white, and congealed (from the boiling, I’d guess) like some kind of fatty-cheese mass. I was horrified, until he opened up this pocket knife and removed the gelatinous eye mass AND THEN ATE IT. Then I became inconsolable. I yelled at the screen.

Jar City sheep eating scene from bob cluness on Vimeo.

I cannot tell you how grossed out I was by that, and I’m ashamed really, because the other parts that I’m supposed to by shocked and grossed at, like the jars of all the specimens? or the very graphic corpse they find? Nothing. No biggie. Dead bodies? a dime a dozen. Who cares? But a guy eating a sheep’s head like it’s an ear of corn at a July 4th picnic? And I lose my shit.

I’m sure it’s some kind of delicious, traditional Icelandic food or something. And the eye? It probably tastes like Christmas day for all I know. But as soon as that scene happened I knew that no matter what else happened in that movie that is the only part I’d remember.

Hi, my name is Jaimie, but you can call me Whitey McCrackerson.

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