Time and Water Review: Grieving the Loss of Iceland’s Glaciers and Beyond

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our coverage of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. The film is set to be released in theaters on May 29.

      “Will your oceans be formed from our glaciers?” asks Icelandic poet Andri Snær Magnason in the narration of Time and Water, the stunning new documentary by Fire of Love director Sara Dosa. Utilizing Magnason’s family archives along with captivating glacier footage, it serves as a poignant tribute to a world we are steadily losing. Iceland, a country with few trees, is located on tectonic plates that are separating, leading to an abundance of lava that hampers deep soil growth needed for trees to flourish. While many trees once existed, they were cut down by Vikings over a thousand years ago for ships and other needs. It’s a place where some still hold onto beliefs in magic, a notion easily understood given the breathtaking landscapes.

      Iceland boasts a rich history that its inhabitants take great pride in. The glaciers form a crucial part of that heritage, yet they are rapidly melting due to climate change. Although this information is not new, the alarming pace of their disappearance continues to escalate. Time and Water is presented as a time capsule meant for those who will outlast the significant and tragic changes ahead. Dosa excels in establishing tone within the documentary realm, a vital aspect also present in her previous film, Fire of Love, a romance set against perilous volcanoes that received an Oscar nomination a few years back.

      Time and Water strikes a balance of joy and sorrow simultaneously. Memories of family are intertwined with those who are no longer around. Magnason reflects on the passing of a relative as if they simply vanished—“and then, he’s gone.” This contemplation parallels his thoughts on a melting glacier: “I often think about the unsettling stillness of a glacier’s demise.” The connection between familial generations and the nature we have taken for granted is both clear and moving. The film features beautiful Icelandic hymns alongside a delicate, nuanced score by composer Dan Deacon. Gentle frames showcase living glaciers, displaying every conceivable shade of blue (with bluer ice indicating longer life, as we learn).

      Archival photos and videos highlight what once existed and what will never return. Yet, Time and Water often feels celebratory, a reminder of the beauty surrounding us. Whether it’s glaciers, grandmothers, flowers, or children, love is always nearby. In lesser hands, the film's sentiments might appear overly sentimental. Thankfully, Dosa's skill ensures that Magnason's words and images complement each other seamlessly, evoking a bittersweet ache that resonates universally. Despite the lost memories, vanishing glaciers, and changing ecosystems, an underlying sense of optimism prevails. Life continues, after all. Until it doesn’t.

      Time and Water debuted at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival.