The Home Game

There are few things more enjoyable when watching a documentary than being able to fully root for an underdog. From spelling bees to singing contests, debate societies and sporting contests, they have proved themselves cinematic winners with a fine pedigree - and The Home Game’s triumph in the Glasgow Film Festival audience award again proves its a winning formula. Although technically from the sporting end of the genre, even non-football fans are likely to find themselves won over almost immediately by this tale of one team’s determination against the odds.

The story starts long before directors Smari Gunn and Logi Sigursveinsson entered the picture, back in 1994. It was then that Viðar Gylfason, a resident of the Icelandic village of Hellissandur (population: 369), settled on the pipe dream of building a football pitch and having his club Reynir FC play a home game on it in the country’s FA Cup.

The pitch, created on a lava field, turned out to be impressive and the team entered the draw in 1996 - only to find themselves drawn in an away game. When that ended in an ignominious 10-0 defeat, it seemed that the dream was over. That, however, was not the end of the story as 20 years on Gylfason’s son Kári Viðars decided to have another go at realising his father’s aspiration.

What is crucial to this story is the welcoming attitude of Reynir FC that has existed from the start. Nothing was a barrier to being able to train with them, meaning that the age range of those involved spanned the generations, both in the 90s and with the rebooted team, while gender was also unimportant. The Home Game is also likely to give hope to couch potatoes everywhere, as several of those involved tug on football boots and start to get in training from a complete standing start.

As the team starts to train, they also have help from Freydís Bjarnadóttir, a member of the original 1994 squad, who went on to have a professional career in the game. Although Gunn and Sigursveinsson capture the team in training, this is as much about community spirit as anything that happens on the pitch. Viðars becomes determined to do everything he can to permit Bjarnadóttir to get a game.

Gunn and Sigursveinsson take an open approach to their contributors, allowing the father and son story to bring some emotional weight, while also leaving room for other stories to emerge. Although this is less about the winning than the taking part, the directors find other ways of taking their film to a satisfyingly nail-biting finish.