I saw this Icelandic film, Noi Albinoi.
It was primarily about how much there isn't a goddamned thing happening in the remote villages of the West Fjords of Iceland. Apparently, though, there are big ominous snow-packed mountains rising straight out of the churning, gray ocean, weatherbeaten houses clad in corrugated metal siding, aimless youths, drunk, taxi driving deadbeat dads, meticulous old ladies, disgusting cuisine, fortune-telling firemen, and priests on snowmobiles. It had a wry humor and a very nice soundtrack. It was slow (which is a quality I actually really love in a movie), and had a simultaneously awful and hopeful finale. I liked it. I would watch it again.
I could see how growing up in a frigid, remote location like that might make one wish, as Noi does, for Hawaii, but I've never been one to dream of white, sandy beaches. I must say that it really appealed to me - all that cold and desolation. I could stand it for awhile. I vant to be alone!
Either remotest Iceland, or a shoebox in New York City. All angst, all the time, baby.