By Janaé Rachel Ballot
I grew up in Beverly Hills, where tourists believe the streets are paved with literal gold. But what they don’t see is that the multi-million dollar mansions are plagued by sewer rats. The city doesn’t allow trash cans to sit out on the curb where the passing tourist vans can see them. Instead, the garbage is hidden away in the alleyways, where the rats fester in secret before eventually infiltrating the very homes looked upon as glamorous.
I also grew up in an entertainment business family. My loving mother called it early on – I was going to grow up to be a filmmaker. Little did we know, my feature debut, Dissociated Me, would have its World Premiere at the Reykjavík International Film Festival (RIFF) with acclaimed Icelandic film editor and dear friend Elísabet Ronaldsdóttir producing and making her acting debut.
Before Iceland, my only trip was across America when I was a child. My grandfather’s invention was being inducted into the Smithsonian Institution in Washington D.C. My mother decided it would be apt for my sister, herself, me, and our six dogs to pack into a car and drive across the country, stopping in every state along the way for the “experience.” Well, that experience took two months, but it was a road trip designed to build character or provide material as a brooding writer. I decided to choose the latter. Decades later, there I was in Los Angeles, staring at the acceptance letter from RIFF.
I was planning an 11-day stay with my co-producer, cinematographer, and actor in the film, Matthew Monelli. Halfway across the world, I was about to unveil a feature film built on my traumas. The movie had started with Elísabet’s idea: a film about my life. A film where, mid-shoot, I was struck by a car traveling 35 miles per hour, and the Dissociated Me team wove the actual hospital footage directly into the narrative.
During the flight over, I messaged Elísabet: “I picture dissociation as being not that dissimilar from jet lag.” They both pull you out of time, making you feel unmoored. But when I arrived in Iceland, instead of intense culture shock, I felt a familiarity.
Recognizing that this festival was the first time Iceland would get to look at this film, I made a stubborn promise for the next 11 days: I was going to find the Icelandic heartbeat of Dissociated Me.
Instead of the usual morning coffee meetings in Hollywood, the day of our premiere found me having pancakes with Elísabet at Grái Kötturinn. It was a privilege to see her on her home turf. While Matthew Monelli was off exploring the beautiful landscapes—a well-deserved break after the three years we spent making this film—I spent my time learning about someone I’ve known for years.
Whether Elísabet is editing a Hollywood blockbuster or walking through her hometown, she is a constant: fiercely sharp, generous, and unimpressed by her own hype. When I showed her the initial piece in All Things Nordic, she hit me with her signature deadpan sarcasm: “Ohh, what did you do?” before a smile spread. During the festival madness, I also had the pleasure of meeting her son. Hearing him speak about her with so much love and wit made me miss my own family back home.
In true Elísabet fashion, she kept checking in on me as we prepped for our RIFF screenings.
My sister, Savannah Ballot, is an anchor in Dissociated Me. She is only on the phone throughout the film, acting as the voice of reason and guiding me through my own on-screen traumas. While in Iceland, I found myself on the phone with Savannah in real life, where she completely anchored me back to my self-worth. Life and art bled into each other entirely.
Elísabet and Savannah urged me to live life outside the festival. Matthew and I traveled into the countryside together. Standing there looking at the tectonic plates and waterfalls, there was the visual metaphor for what we put on screen. It was proof that something can fracture, take on massive friction, and still end up standing intact.
But the elements in Iceland aren’t always poetry; sometimes they are just freezing! I embraced the open elements largely due to the kindness of local spaces, including Mountain Lion Knits and The Endery, who gifted me knitwear to stay warm and feel confident going into the unknown.
That warmth carried straight into our World Premiere. We watched as locals and festival-goers packed the house. Seeing strangers project their own lives onto the screen, telling us afterward how much the film spoke to them, became the turning point for me.
It took three years, a 35-mph car accident, and unwavering faith to take this movie across the finish line. I expected to leave Iceland exhausted. Instead, I left recharged.
Our premiere proved that authenticity is undeniable. I found that in Iceland. The movie spoke for itself and proved that you do not need permission to tell your own story.
I am bringing that exact same grit back to LA.
There must be something in the water over in Iceland.
All Things Nordic is proud to host this exclusive diary from the Reykjavík International Film Festival (RIFF), written by Janaé Rachel Ballot, writer and director of Dissociated Me. In this personal account, she reflects on her film’s world premiere and the people and landscapes that made her Icelandic experience unforgettable.
