Comedian Gunnar Jónsson’s face is the best reason to see Virgin Mountain. Fúsi (Jónsson) is a giant hulk of man with sloping shoulders who manages to do almost nothing while communicating everything – he wears a permanent mask of equal parts hapless bewilderment and melancholic resignation. He’s an unassuming presence who’s easy to love and selfless to a fault.
Not a ‘fuser’
Fúsi is in his mid-forties. He’s bullied at his workplace, the baggage department at the local airport, and still lives with his mother who, despite being in her late sixties, is getting more action in the sack than Fúsi has ever done. Although never stated explicitly, it is strongly implied (along with the English title) that Fúsi is a virgin. He fills his spare time re-enacting famous battles of WWII with small scale models in a friend’s garage. The monotony of this overcast, desaturated existence is broken when one stormy evening, Fúsi is coerced into trying a line dancing class by his mother’s lover. A death metal fan, Fúsi bottles at the last minute, but not before he meets Sjöfn (Kristjánsdóttir) who asks for a lift home to avoid the blizzard.