From Iceland to Gimli: How Film Connects Heritage, Aging, and Community

The serene shores of Gimli, Manitoba—home to Canada’s largest Icelandic population outside Iceland—offered the perfect backdrop for a reflective conversation with acclaimed Icelandic documentary filmmaker Yrsa Roca Fannberg, who visited Canada for the first time this summer during the Gimli Film Festival.

Her presence at the festival was more than symbolic. It served as a cultural bridge between Iceland and Manitoba’s Icelandic diaspora, and as a reminder of cinema’s ability to foster connection, empathy, and storytelling across generations.

Yrsa’s latest documentary, her third, turns its gaze on life inside a nursing home. With quiet intimacy, she captures the rhythms, routines, and reflections of those nearing the end of life. Though the setting is Icelandic, the themes are universal.

“We rarely think about aging until it enters our own life,” she reflects. “But it’s a natural part of being alive, and I wanted to respect that.”

In Winnipeg and rural Manitoba—where aging populations and strained healthcare systems are pressing realities—her work resonates deeply. It invites audiences to reflect not only on how we care for our elders institutionally, but also on how we nurture them emotionally.

For Gimli’s Icelandic-Canadian community, Yrsa’s visit felt like a homecoming. She was struck by the sight of Icelandic flags adorning shop windows and streets—an image she rarely sees back home.

“It’s strange and beautiful at the same time,” she said. “There’s such a strong heritage here. In Iceland, we don’t put flags in windows, but here it feels like a warm embrace.”

Her presence reaffirmed Gimli’s role as a hub of Icelandic heritage, adding meaning to community traditions like the Gimli Film Festival and Íslendingadagurinn (the Icelandic Festival of Manitoba).

Yrsa’s films stand out not only for their artistry, but for their social weight. They function as quiet acts of civic engagement—creating space for reflection, fostering empathy, and prompting difficult but necessary conversations about mortality and dignity.

In Manitoba, where Indigenous, ethnocultural, and rural communities often face barriers to culturally sensitive elder care, her work takes on added relevance. It asks: How do we honour the final chapters of our elders’ lives? How do we truly listen before their voices are gone?

To young creators from small communities, Yrsa offered simple advice: “Just make the film. Believe in yourself, even if it takes time.” She shared how her first film faced more than 50 rejections before being accepted—proof that persistence, not perfection, builds a career.

For aspiring filmmakers in Winnipeg’s diverse communities—whether Indigenous, immigrant, or from underserved backgrounds—her message was clear: authentic storytelling rooted in lived experience matters. Big budgets and fame are not prerequisites for meaningful work.

Yrsa’s time in Gimli was more than a screening. It was a moment of cultural reconnection, one that left an impression on festival audiences and on a community navigating its own questions of heritage, aging, and care.

At a time when journalism and storytelling face increasing pressures, her visit was also a reminder of the value of slow media—stories that take their time, reflect deeply, and leave us changed.