Shaping our own story

Pipaluk K. Jørgensen, Director of Nuuk International Film Festival, stresses the importance of local involvement in films about Greenland:

“In order to create authentic films about Greenland, and portray how we see ourselves, it’s important that we are involved in the creation of our own narrative.”

I step into Pipaluk K. Jørgensens office with wet cheeks wet from the autumn storm raging outside, Pipaluk greets me with a surprised look. “I completely forgot you were coming,” she says, explaining, “There’s so much going on.” Her hair is messy, and so is the office, but don’t be fooled – Pipaluk has everything under control.

And there truly is a lot going on for Pipaluk K. Jørgensen. The clock is ticking toward the opening of Nuuk International Film Festival 2024. A festival which she co-founded in 2017 with Karsten Heilmann. Today, she runs the festival with her partner, Emile Hertling Péronard.

We sit with a view over the old colonial harbor, the lively Nuuk Fjord, and in the distance, The Northland, whose rocky landscape stands like a barrier against the cold sea currents. I’ve come to meet Pipaluk to get an update on Greenland’s film scene.

Pipaluk is the perfect person to ask. She’s Greenland’s first female film director, co-director of the Oscar-nominated short film Ivalu, producer, business owner, filmmaker and the director of the Nuuk International Film Festival. Born and raised in Nuuk. A key figure in Greenland’s film industry.

“I want us to be part of telling our own story.”

Before we dive into the status of the film scene, I’m curious about something: The beginning of it all. What drives someone like her to juggle so many film projects? She laughs and says:

“I ask myself that, too! Something happens in your forties. After I turned forty, I thought: Damn, I’m halfway through my life. What am I even doing? But I do it because I can’t help it. I want us to be part of telling our own story.”

By “us,” she means the Greenlandic people—Kalaaliusugut.

And this idea of “telling our own story” is a recurring theme in Pipaluk’s answers:

“There should be nothing about us without us,” she says when I ask why it’s so important to tell Greenland’s story from within. She continues:

“You can change world history with one or two films, depending on how the story is told. In order to create authentic films about Greenland, and portray how we see ourselves, it’s important that we are involved in the creation of our own narrative.” 

Her eyes sharpen as she speaks about this theme. Respectful, but determined. This is serious. And if you mean something seriously, you have to fight for it. Even if it means risking financial opportunities or relationships. The cause is bigger than film; it’s about identity.

“We are often portrayed either as a socially challenged country full of alcoholics or as a pristine land of dog sledding. There’s so much in between those two stories. The story of the people and us as a nation. We need to help nuance that,” Pipaluk says. She offers an example of how to gain influence:

“Sometimes you have to say no to things before you’re taken seriously, and that opens the door for you to have a voice.”

We want to inspire the youth

Pipaluk K. Jørgensen’s own story is rooted in Nuuk. From a dreamy childhood to wild teenage years, and into her now-thriving film career. Before filmmaking, she worked in theater. Nuuk is also the home of her passion project, the Nuuk International Film Festival, also known as NIFF. But what’s the vision behind the festival?

“NIFF puts Greenland on the world map. If you want a world premiere of a Greenlandic film, you come to NIFF. If you’re looking for Greenlandic partners, you’ll find them at the festival,” she explains.

She continues, “Greenlandic filmmakers are spread out, so the festival is a platform for us to meet. It’s also a great place for those wanting to enter the industry but who don’t yet know how things work behind the scenes,” she explains and nods towards the other corner of the office where NIFF’s intern Sandra is sitting. 

There’s a special focus on children and youth at the festival. Each year, NIFF hosts a private screening for high school students, followed by an hour-long debate. This year, they’ll watch Life On The Edge, a documentary about a young Inuit educator who navigates the stunning landscapes of Greenland as he seeks to helpyoung people in their struggles with mental health. The screening will be followed by a discussion led by Arnârak Patricia Bloch, a PhD candidate in suicide prevention. The topic is especially important this year after a series of suicides among young people in Greenland this year.

“The conversations we have with young people after the screenings are very meaningful. That’s also why we do the festival. We must never get used to the terrible things that happen. We have to talk about them, even if it’s hard. Film can help with that,” Pipaluk says.

A mountain to climb

Back in her small office, Pipaluk looks out at the first autumn storm battering the city. NIFF is about passing something on. Creating a connection between emotion and conversation in the youth. It’s about nurturing Greenland’s small but growing film industry, which faces enormous challenges in a country with only 56,000 inhabitants.

“The politicians need to invest! Otherwise, we’ll be overwhelmed by all the stories being told about us,” Pipaluk states. 

She is referring to the “tax rebate system,” a model used in many countries where the state refunds 25-30% of production costs, provided the filmmakers spend at least 80% of the budget in that country. Iceland has been particularly successful with this model, attracting productions worth hundreds of millions, such as the latest season of True Detective, which featured several Greenlandic actors.

While Greenlandic politicians are exploring the possibility of adopting a similar system, action needs to be taken quickly to prevent the local film industry from being sidelined.

“There’s enormous interest in stories from Greenland. I was just in Venice for a talk, and you can tell that people are tired of the same old stories. They’re really starting to look toward Indigenous stories internationally. We need to seize this moment, and we need to have a seat at the table,” she says.

Pipaluk herself is working on a new film, This Road of Mine, which she is writing and directing. Though still in its early stages, the film reflects much of what we’ve discussed.

“My next film is for my son, my childhood friend Kiistat Bech, and her late sister Majbritt Bech. It’s about youth, loyalty, and love here in Nuuk. I think a lot of people here need a film like this to see themselves represented on screen. It will be in Greenlandic. My son watches Karius and Baktus from Tuukkaq Theater in 1987. He loves it because they speak Greenlandic.”