Grief is something many films have tackled over the years, all to varying degrees of success. Some choose to address it through comedy while others choose to focus on the pain it causes. It's a topic that can be handled in many ways and, despite how often it comes up in film, still has a lot of potential within storytelling. With When The Light Breaks, director Rúnar Rúnarsson approaches it head on and does so with a surprising amount of complexity and depth.

When her friend and lover Diddi suddenly passes away in a violent car crash, Una, along with the rest of Diddi's friend group, must console one another as they all collectively mourn his death. As they come to terms with what has happened, Una struggles to choose whether or not she should admit to Diddi's girlfriend Klara about their recent romantic involvement.

There is a distinct natural beauty Rúnarsson brings to the film, in the way he chooses to capture both environments and characters. From the warm glow of the sunsets that bookend the film to the way simple phone calls are framed, every shot feels just as intimate as the last. This speaks for itself during a moment of catharsis for the friend group as they all dance and sing together, eventually collapsing to the ground as Una bursts into tears.

What Rúnarsson does with this film is something quite remarkable. Nothing is ever overdramatised and is instead presented in its purest form. Most directors would let scenes of anguish or suspense drag to let the audience sit with it whereas Rúnarsson knows exactly when a moment has done what it needs to. With a runtime of 80 minutes, When The Light Breaks hits you with the emotions that it wants you to feel and never outstays its welcome. It's brief and to the point in a way that feels mature and respectful rather than trying to wrap things up as quickly as it can.