Set in Hellissandur, Iceland, population 369, this modest documentary tells the story of how the village got its first football pitch – with the whole town chipping in and helping to transform a sunken patch in a lava field into a workable site for matches – and the cup dream that followed. The man responsible, youth coach Viðar Gylfason, is one of a small group of contributors who appear on screen to flesh out a narrative that at first glance appears too slight to fill even the film’s modest 79 minute runtime.
Gylfason recounts how his aim was to christen the pitch in 1996 with a cup game for local team Reynir FC, a plan that didn’t quite play out as hoped. This leaves room for a present-day narrative in which the film-makers follow a plucky band of local characters as they attempt to put together a ragtag team of players to fulfil Gylfason’s dream. The stakes honestly couldn’t be lower, and the film knows it; you’ll find yourself either charmed or shrugging your shoulders. Counting themselves among the charmed are the attendees of several film festivals, including that of Glasgow, who have given it various audience awards; these normally go to films that are either tragic, politically galvanising, or heartwarming – and The Home Game very much fits into the latter category, with its small-town characters, quirky ambition to realise a decades-old failed ambition, and plucky underdog gang working together against the odds.
This film isn’t out to break the mould or play radically with documentary form, but simply to tell a small story in a straightforward way; it’s the kind of thing you can imagine playing on a loop for tourists in a Hellissandur visitors centre. Should the documentary be aiming a little higher? Undeniably, but it’d be churlish to complain that this sweet little film ought to be doing more, sort of like chastising Leyton Orient for not getting into Europe; they simply aren’t playing in that division, and that’s OK, there’s room in the game for the little guy too.