THERE was me and two well-presented women watching Kay Pollak’s sequel to the little Swedish film that a decade ago ran for two years in Sydney.

As we rose to leave, one of them asked whether I had enjoyed it, whether it was as good as the original. I did not recollect seeing the original but while I thought this sequel had structural and narrative flaws, I found it agreeable enough. They urged me to get the DVD of the original.

In a remote community in Sweden’s north Lena sings in the local tavern. Her baby’s due in a fortnight. It doesn’t know that. It’s snowing. The midwife can’t get through. The nearest hospital is 180 kilometres away. Driving there, Lena finds Stig, pastor at the local church, lying drunk and morose on the road. It’s Stig who delivers little Jakob.

This prelude initiates a tale linking Jakob’s birth with the re-opening of the renovated church and the restoration of Stig’s battered soul. Lena wants to help him. What better way than boosting the size of the congregation?

So begins a saga in which the villagers decide to celebrate the restoration of the church by performing Handel’s best known oratorio number. We all know the Hallelujah chorus, don’t we? The film devolves into a struggle to recruit singers and instrumentalists to perform it under Lena’s direction (she may be musically illiterate but has a good ear), to put Lena into a relationship with the handsome young builder and generally make things better.

I like stories like this in which ordinary people confront and deal with adversity (there’s a lot of that to strengthen the film). It may have minor defects but they don’t detract from what at heart is a pleasant film.

At Palace Electric