Involuntary (15.)
Directed by Ruben Ostlund.
Starring Villmar Bjorkman, Maria Lundqvist, Cecilia Milocco, Linnea Cart-Lamy, Sara Eriksson, Olle Lijas. Swedish with subtitles. 98 mins
Distressed Swedes in the mid distance, who can ever tire of that? Roy Andersson’s Songs From The Second Floor and You, The Living are two of the finest films of the last decade in my humble opinion, both of which feature long static shots of full length Swedes in various states of tragic-comic anguish.
Now much of the Anderson mantle has been taken on by younger countryman Ostlund but the result is much more sour and mean spirited: while Andersson is like a morose deadpan Fellini, Ostlund is a glum social realist, albeit a glum social realist with some novel camera angles.
The film is all about the technique and the style, which is consistently unique and impressive. With one exception the camera remains fixed throughout. There are no close ups, no editing other than to move from one scene to another. All the film’s energy is derived from what is in the frame.
It’s a style that demands expert framing to succeed and Ostlund picks some inspired positions to lock down his camera. Can a film be worth seeing just for its imaginative camera angles? Maybe not but this one comes damn close. A shot of the reflection of a group of male friends, distorted to resemble dwarves in of a car door, is particularly memorable.
The content is another matter, a mosaic of five separate situations explored in various disconnected scenes. These range from a disrupted coach journey to two teenage girls getting drunk and passing out but all of them are about the themes of peer pressure and bullying.
The film is set in the summer and it captures that ineffably bleakness of long summer evenings in countries where sunshine is fleeting and precious. There is something queasy about this film. Though nothing especially shocking and unpleasant actually happens on screen, there is a definite dread of what these people, or perhaps more to the point these groups of people, could be capable of.
The film’s distant and opaque approach means it often comes across as a bit smug, a lofty dismissal of the weaknesses of ordinary people.
Did I mention it is defined as a comedy? Though I could on occasion see the humour I never laughed at it. My course through the film was resentful antipathy for most of its length, softening to grudging acceptance by its conclusion and even some cautious enthusiasm on the train home. This is the worst possible trajectory through a movie because you gain little pleasure from watching it only to then feel a sense of having missed out.
Force Majeure review
Directed by Ruben Ostlund.
Starring Villmar Bjorkman, Maria Lundqvist, Cecilia Milocco, Linnea Cart-Lamy, Sara Eriksson, Olle Lijas. Swedish with subtitles. 98 mins
Distressed Swedes in the mid distance, who can ever tire of that? Roy Andersson’s Songs From The Second Floor and You, The Living are two of the finest films of the last decade in my humble opinion, both of which feature long static shots of full length Swedes in various states of tragic-comic anguish.
Now much of the Anderson mantle has been taken on by younger countryman Ostlund but the result is much more sour and mean spirited: while Andersson is like a morose deadpan Fellini, Ostlund is a glum social realist, albeit a glum social realist with some novel camera angles.
The film is all about the technique and the style, which is consistently unique and impressive. With one exception the camera remains fixed throughout. There are no close ups, no editing other than to move from one scene to another. All the film’s energy is derived from what is in the frame.
It’s a style that demands expert framing to succeed and Ostlund picks some inspired positions to lock down his camera. Can a film be worth seeing just for its imaginative camera angles? Maybe not but this one comes damn close. A shot of the reflection of a group of male friends, distorted to resemble dwarves in of a car door, is particularly memorable.
The content is another matter, a mosaic of five separate situations explored in various disconnected scenes. These range from a disrupted coach journey to two teenage girls getting drunk and passing out but all of them are about the themes of peer pressure and bullying.
The film is set in the summer and it captures that ineffably bleakness of long summer evenings in countries where sunshine is fleeting and precious. There is something queasy about this film. Though nothing especially shocking and unpleasant actually happens on screen, there is a definite dread of what these people, or perhaps more to the point these groups of people, could be capable of.
The film’s distant and opaque approach means it often comes across as a bit smug, a lofty dismissal of the weaknesses of ordinary people.
Did I mention it is defined as a comedy? Though I could on occasion see the humour I never laughed at it. My course through the film was resentful antipathy for most of its length, softening to grudging acceptance by its conclusion and even some cautious enthusiasm on the train home. This is the worst possible trajectory through a movie because you gain little pleasure from watching it only to then feel a sense of having missed out.
Force Majeure review
