At this time of year, when you’re faced with sideways rain, gale force winds and seemingly endless darkness, a trip to somewhere sunny sounds like the perfect antidote. Perhaps you’ve even considered the spending time amongst the azure seas, golden pools of sunlight, shoals of multi-coloured fish and whitewashed apartments of La Palma, the most north-westerly of the Canary Islands.
But Kasper Barfoed’s new four-part La Palma on Netflix, named after the island, might make you think twice about catching a bit of winter sun. Fredrik (Anders Baasmo) and Jennifer (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal) have taken their children, Sara (Alma Günther) and Tobias (Bernard Storm Lager) to the same resort that they’ve visited for the past seven Christmases. Their relationships seem frayed; Jennifer has recently taken up a strict fitness regime, Sara appears to never leave their family home to socialise and Tobias appears to be neurodiverse.
On another part of the island, Marie (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), Àlvaro (Jorge de Juan) and Haukur (Ólafur Darri Ólafsson) continue their work at the geological institute. A mysterious explosion on a boat has prompted an exploration of toxic gas of the Cumbre Vieja, the island’s volcanic ridge. Is disaster just days away?
Despite the catastrophic nature of the mini-series, Barfoed showcases the two sides of La Palma in a highly cinematic way. The scenes around the resort, in particular, seem over-saturated with bright corals and verdant greens. The pool glitters in the sunlight. Fredrik and Jennifer don tastefully neutral, co-ordinated summer outfits. It looks and feels idyllic. In stark contrast to this, the mountainous scenes seem stark and devoid of colour. The ground is an inky black and the trees look drained of their lustre. The sea that can be seen from the top of the ridge looks grey and menacing. It immediately sets up this nice divide between the luxury of a holiday and the destructiveness of nature.
La Palma is particularly well cast. Alma Günther stands out, as Sara, for her anxious hesitancy to fully take part in life. She is shy and well-meaning; a girl who clearly feels deeply but would rather hide herself away than show it. Anders Baasmo and Ingrid Bolsø Berdal play well against each other, their various mid-life crises dividing rather than bonding them. Thea Sofie Loch Næss, as Marie, is an earnest young graduate at the geological institute, orphaned the Boxing Day tsunami of 2004. Her past very much informs her present, as she is keen to raise the alarm about the potential eruption, even when her bosses are not. Disaster stories like this often give characters the chance to explore their strength and resourcefulness. This is certainly true for Marie. Her resilience and her trauma are gently explored over the course of the four episodes.
But what’s perhaps most interesting about the mini-series is the themes that percolate throughout. There are messages about climate change and the sudden dramatic changes in our weather and our landscapes that are occurring as a result. You need only have caught a glimpse of the news over the past month or so to understand the scale of such destruction. More than this, the series emphasizes that nature has no regard for who you are, once it has decided to unleash something, there is no stopping it. In fact, the series ends with a voice over about listening more closely to nature and to any animal that has adapted and survived for so long. There is also clear allusions drawn between the fractured relationships in the series and the volcanic ridge itself. Cumbre Vieja will reform and reshape itself in the aftermath – but will Fredrik and Jennifer?
And, of course, in any disaster situation, you are here to see the dramatic spectacle that is nature herself. La Palma certainly does not disappoint. It is entirely cinematic in its approach to the eruption for a number of reasons. It begins with the classic “liquid trembling in a glass” shot and evolves to amber flames spewing into the air whilst a menacing grumble comes from the belly of the ridge. There is chaos, screaming, panic and confusion. There is violence as desperation to get off the island escalates. There are frightening attempts at air travel. The lurch of a wall of water making its way towards the island freezes Marie to the spot. The editing choices – quick cuts to the smoking, threatening Cumbre Vieja – and the score really underline the sense of impending doom. Lots of staccato violins and pulse-like throbs emphasise the lack of time all of the characters have. It’s built up incredibly well.
The mini-series is paced perfectly – any longer than the four episodes and you would lose the sense of mayhem and danger that it so beautifully packs in. It might make you think twice about booking that winter break but La Palma will have you hooked from the opening scenes. A compact, well-acted, binge-worthy addition to Netflix.
All four episodes of La Palma are available on Netflix worldwide from the 12th December.