In the droll Swedish dramedy Force Majeure, a smugly affluent family of four vacations at an upscale ski resort in the French Alps. The wife explains to a friend that they take the vacation because otherwise the husband never sees the family. But, while the wife is blissed out, the kids fidget and complain, and the hubby sneaks peeks at his phone.
Then there’s a sudden moment of apparent life-and-death peril; the husband has a chance to protect the wife and kids, but instead – after first securing his iPhone – runs for his life. How do they all go on from that revealing moment? The extent that one incident can bring relationships into focus is the core of Force Majeure.
Clearly, the family has a serious issue to resolve, but there’s plenty of dry humor. In the most cringe worthy moments, the wife tries to contain her disgust, but can’t keep it bottled up when she’s in the most social situations. The couple repeatedly huddle outside their room in their underwear to talk things out, only to find themselves observed by the same impassive French hotel worker. The most tense moments are interrupted by an insistent cell phone vibration, another guest’s birthday party and a child’s remotely out-of-control flying toy.
Force Majeure is exceptionally well-written by writer-director Ruben Ostlund. It was just his fourth feature and the first widely seen outside Scandinavia. He transitions between scenes by showing the machinery of the ski resort accompanied by Baroque organ music – a singular and very effective directorial choice. Ostlund has gone on to direct The Square and Triangle of Sadness, both of which won the Palm d’Or at Cannes; (but Force Majeure is his best film.)
Force Majeure was Sweden’s submission for the Best Foreign Language Oscar. It is available to stream from Amazon, AppleTV, Vudu and YouTube and is free on HBO.
[I’ve included the trailer as always, but I recommend that you see the movie WITHOUT watching this trailer – mild spoilers]
In About Endlessness, Roy Andersson, that genius of deadpan existential cinema, probes the meaning of human life.
Andersson movies are a series of vignettes, with ponderous Scandinavians arranged or paraded in front of a stationary camera, in a way that critic Justin Change has likened to diorama. There is never a closeup. It is all superbly photographed by cinematographer Gergely Pálos.
Now, Andersson is not for everyone. This is what I wrote in 2014 about his most recent film:
Some viewers are going to hate, hate, hate the droll Swedish existentialist comedyA Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence, but it’s kind of a masterpiece. For most of its 101 minutes, dull Swedes sit and stand talking about dull things. It’s no secret that the Scandinavians (who The Wife refers to as “Your people”) are not the most lively bunch. Filmmaker Roy Andersson uses this trope to probe the meaning of life itself.
About Endlessness, with all its randomness, is more direct than A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence. This time, in a psychiatry office and in a student’s bedroom, Andersson is explicit. When a doubting priest asks the point of life without religious belief, his shrink answers, “Damned if I know. Maybe being content with being alive.”
Most vignettes are absurdist and darkly funny, often about someone deeply engaged in something that Andersson sees as trivial. But, About Endlessness, contains some life and death moments, mixed among the clearly meaningless.
This time, some of Andersson’s vignettes are bracing. In one, a man has committed a horrific and irreversible act that he has come to realize, too late, was profoundly misguided.
Two other vignettes are among the sweetest you’ll see this year – one with young women bursting into into an impromptu dance, the other with a father tying his small daughter’s shoes.
About Endlessness is an art film in the best sense, an experience that demonstrates what what cinema can do in the hands of a talented artist with something to say. I recognize that it’s not for everyone – but it’s only 76 minutes, so give it a chance. I’m putting it on my list of Best Movies of 2021.
In just over a month, the 78-year-old Andersson will be out with another film, Being a Human Person.
About Endlessness is streaming on Amazon, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
In the horror comedy Blood Paradise, the author (Andrea Winter) of lurid best sellers is wallowing in malaise after her latest book bombs. For a change of pace, she gets away to the Swedish version of an agriturismo, a remote and spartan farm. The farm has every earmark of Gothic horror, and Blood Paradise has great fun with every creaky door and ominous scarecrow. The farmer explains his wife’s grave out back, “she loved the garden but now it’s only a garden of death”. The farmer’s creepy middle-aged sister is obsessed with dolls. His menacingly silent, paunchy son is mostly shirtless and fondling a shotgun. And the author’s driver is her biggest fan – and seriously unhinged. Just when the blood starts splattering, the author’s hunky, dim and besotted boyfriend Teddy shows up for a surprise visit in a white suit.
Part of the fun is that the author has adventuresome sexual fantasies and makes a living envisioning gruesome scenarios; her especially rich imagination makes every ominous cue seem even more alarming.
Blood Paradise is written by its star Andrea Winter and directed by Patrick von Barkenberg (who also plays Teddy); it is the first narrative feature for both. Winter is a good sport about her own nudity, and has fun playing the author as a brat. She also has fun with Teddy’s allergies, which erupt at the most importune times. And there’s a very amusing homage to Psycho.
This is a Swedish movie set in Sweden, but almost all the dialogue is in English. Blood Paradise plays at the 2019 Cinequest.
In the droll Swedish dramedy Force Majeure, a smugly affluent family of four vacations at an upscale ski resort in the French Alps. The wife explains to a friend that they take the vacation because otherwise the husband never sees the family. But, while the wife is blissed out, the kids fidget and complain, and the hubby sneaks peeks at his phone.
Then there’s a sudden moment of apparent life-and-death peril; the husband has a chance to protect the wife and kids, but instead – after first securing his iPhone – runs for his life. How do they all go on from that revealing moment? The extent that one incident can bring relationships into focus is the core of Force Majeure.
Clearly, the family has a serious issue to resolve, but there’s plenty of dry humor. In the most cringe worthy moments, the wife tries to contain her disgust, but can’t keep it bottled up when she’s in the most social situations. The couple repeatedly huddle outside their room in their underwear to talk things out, only to find themselves observed by the same impassive French hotel worker. The most tense moments are interrupted by an insistent cell phone vibration, another guest’s birthday party and a child’s remotely out-of-control flying toy.
Force Majeure is exceptionally well-written by writer-director Ruben Ostlund. It’s just his fourth feature and the first widely seen outside Scandinavia. He transitions between scenes by showing the machinery of the ski resort accompanied by Baroque organ music – a singular and very effective directorial choice.
Force Majeure was Sweden’s submission for the Best Foreign Language Oscar. It is available on DVD from Netflix and streaming from Amazon, iTunes, Vudu and Xbox Video.
[I’ve included the trailer as always, but I recommend that you see the movie WITHOUT watching this trailer – mild spoilers]
Claes Bang in THE SQUARE. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.
The Square, the social satire from Swedish writer-director Ruben Östlund is one of the most ambitious movies of the year. Often LOL funny, and just as often uncomfortable, The Square hits moments of triumph that would constitute a great movie if they were braided together more cohesively.
The Square is set in a world that is ripe for mockery – Christian (Claes Bang) is chief curator at a Stockholm museum of modern art. The museum is funded by the very rich, and the art is impenetrably pretentious, inaccessible to all but those predisposed to deconstruct it (or at least pretend to). One installation is described in straight-faced mumbo jumbo as “relational aesthetics”. Another is a roomful of conical piles of rubble, with a museum guard rebuking visitors with a stern “no pictures!”.
Christian is comfortable in his privilege, but he is curious about exploring social inequity – but only as an intellectual exercise. Christian is interested in street beggars (and finds one especially ungrateful one), and The Square is filled by “help me” moments. He is victimized by a robbery that seems like performance art, and sets off on an adventure called the “Tesla of Justice”, which goes horribly awry.
There are lots of laughs in The Square. Christian admonishes a colleague not to use Comic Sans font in a threat letter. There’s a very funny tug of war in a post-coital spat. A self-congratulatory on-stage interview with a precious artist wearing a blazer over pajamas, is disrupted by an audience member with Tourette’s who ejaculates “cock godammit” and the like, all while the audience pretends it’s all ok. And there’s a riotous thread with PR guys making a BS pitch that results in the very most counter-productive promotional video (think Springtime for Hitler in The Producers).
Östlund is very gifted at finding the humor in interruptions. The most serious, intimate and formal discussions are interrupted by a baby crying, construction noise and lots of cell phones ringing.
And, finally, there is a museum opening gala with a “welcome to the jungle” theme. This segment of The Square could stand alone as a sort film and probably win an Oscar. (Again, completely universal terror is interrupted by a ringing cell phone.) But, it’s unclear how this fits inside The Square’s themes.
Elisabeth Moss and Claes Bang in THE SQUARE. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.
The Square is very well-acted. Claes Bang is exceptional as Christian, exuding the ennui of Marcello Mastroianni in 8 1/2, Gabriele Ferzetti in L’Avventura and David Hemmings in Blow-up.
As an American journalist, Elisabeth Moss (who is always excellent) gets to show us her playful side, which is a treat; there’s a wonderful Moss moment when her eyes tell us she’s made a decision about her sex life while in the restroom line.
The most stunning performance is by Terry Notary as the performance artist at the gala. Notary, a stunt coordinator, choreographer and movement coach, is a master of motion capture, and his work has been featured in the Planet of the Apes and The Hobbit franchises and Andy Serkis’ Jungle Book. It’s one thing to imitate an ape, but Notary’s performance in The Square plays off of and dominates a banquet room full of other actors. It’s a really singular performance.
Terry Notary (on table) in THE SQUARE. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.
I loved Ruben Östlund’s Force Majeure, which made my list of Best Movies of 2014 Force Majeure was Sweden’s submission for the Best Foreign Language Oscar. It is available on DVD from Netflix and streaming from Amazon, iTunes, Vudu and Xbox Video. Force Majeure was a satirical drama with some very funny moments; The Square is a satirical comedy with some very serious themes.
The Square is a movie that my head liked a lot, but it didn’t thrill my heart. Filled with brilliant moments, it just doesn’t hold together as one cohesive great movie.
[SPOILER: At the end, Christian tries to be genuinely helpful by making amends – but he is proven ultimately and ironically helpless.]
Stellan Skarsgård stars as the chief money-launderer for the Russia Mob in Our Kind of Traitor, and Skarsgård completely dominates the movie with his always robust and often hilarious performance. Who knew that the familiar Skarsgård could be so funny? After all, he usually plays a character that is brooding or menacing.
Skarsgård had already amassed over 50 screen credits at age 35 when the American art house audience really noticed him in Breaking the Waves (1996), He played an amiable and lusty seafarer who transforms the mousy Emily Watson with his joie de vivre, before he becomes a heartbreakingly suicidal paraplegic.
Emily Watson and Skarsgård in BREAKING THE WAVES
Although I hadn’t remembered him, earlier, Skarsgård appeared in The Unbearable Lightness of Being(1988), where he played The Engineer who had a one-night stand with Juliette Binoche’s Tereza. Then, in 1990, he played the Russian sub captain in The Hunt for Red October.
After Breaking the Waves came Insomnia, Good Will Hunting, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and lots of really bad Hollywood movies where he’s the best thing in them – primarily dramas, thrillers and action films where he’s the intensely stolid or sinister presence.
Now, everybody’s got to start somewhere, and in 1973, Stellan Skarsgård’s second year making feature films, he starred in a cult Guilty Pleasure – Anita: Swedish Nymphet. As the title suggests, the story is about a 16-year-old girl (played by a 23-year-old actress) with psychological issues which compel her to have sex in random and unhealthy encounters. It’s completely trashy, but, of course, the appeal of Anita: Swedish Nymphet to US (male) audiences was lots of nudity and sex – still uncommon in American movies.
Skarsgård plays Anita’s counselor, who eventually cures her by making her his girlfriend.
But now’s the time to enjoy Skarsgård in Our Kind of Traitor, It’s not a great movie, but Skarsgård makes it damn entertaining. By himself, he’s worth the price of a ticket.
Skarsgård counseling a troubled girl in ANITA: SWEDISH NYMPHET
The Swedish comedy Staying Alivetreads the now familiar ground of An Unmarried Woman – a woman’s husband has traded her in for a newer model, leaving her to address the challenges of self-identity, parenting, sexuality and economic survival in an post-marriage environment. Staying Alive has two things going for it – an appealing performance by its lead actress, Agnes Kittelsen, and some bawdy, broad humor from her bestie.
Staying Alive is mildly enjoyable entertainment, but there’s really no other reason for this film to have been made.
Some viewers are going to hate, hate, hate the droll Swedish existentialist comedy A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence, but it’s kind of a masterpiece. For most of its 101 minutes, dull Swedes sit and stand talking about dull things. It’s no secret that the Scandinavians (who The Wife refers to as “Your people”) are not the most lively bunch. Filmmaker Roy Andersson uses this trope to probe the meaning of life itself.
Salon.com critic Andrew O’Hehir has accurately described this film as “extreme-deadpan”. It is made up of vignettes filmed in static shots where people hardly move for 1-4 minutes – a looooong time. There is nothing on the walls of any of the bleak rooms. The characters converse in empty social conventions, talking about weather and such. Everyone says, “I’m happy to hear that you’re doing fine” because they can’t think of anything else to say. The highlight of their lives is when a comely young woman removes a stone from her shoe. In one bus stop discussion about what day of the week it is, we have the theme distilled: “it would be chaos” if we didn’t follow the routine. All of these people need more than a little chaos.
This is the third movie in a trilogy by Andersson. (I’ve seen and relished one of the prior films, Songs from the Second Floor). Like Pigeon, Songs is very funny, but Pigeon is more ambitious and digs deeper.
In the primary recurring thread, we follow a pair of sad sack novelty salesmen, who see their hopeless mission as “to help people have fun”. The joke is there may not be any value/fun/point to life but ESPECIALLY if you are a brooding Swede.
During the end credits, there is a final contrast, juxtaposing the unrestrained American rockabilly music set against an image of mordant Swedes.
There are absurdist episodes where 18th Century King Carl XII rides his steed into a modern Swedish cafe. (It helps to know that Carl spurned the company of women and that his defeat in the Battle of Poltava signaled the end of Swedish empire.)
And then there is a horrifyingly surreal dream sequence that illustrates the horrors of European colonialism. It is about inhumane brutality that Andersson believes still haunts Europe until forgiveness is sought; there is a reference to Sweden’s brief colonial past. This segment is less evocative (and even unnecessary) for US viewers unless we relate it to our own legacy of slavery.
Is the movie pointless? Or is the point that life is pointless? We do see some brief tender moments of a couple at a window and another in a meadow. The foe, it seems, is loneliness. We have only each other.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence is available to stream from Netflix Instant, Amazon Video, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
The winning Nerd Olympics documentary Sweden’s Coolest National Teambrings us into a world that I didn’t know existed – international competition in memory sport. That subject is the first factor that elevates Sweden’s Coolest National Team above the familiar arc of the sports movie. We see people who can remember the exact order of a shuffled deck of cards, seemingly endless strings of binary numbers, even entire dictionaries. (The current world record for memorizing the order of a shuffled deck of cards is 21.19 seconds.) It is a jaw-dropping exhibition.
We meet the sport’s founder and several world champs, and we do end up at the World Memory Championship. Along the way, we see the universal aspects of competition – the pressure to perform, the rookie’s overconfidence, comeuppance for both the brash rookie and the complacent old champ. One competitor’s sister phones their parents to report “he got crushed”.
But what makes Sweden’s Coolest National Team so engaging is that its subjects are so fascinating. As one might expect, the competitors don’t seem particularly athletic and many are downright geeky. Several of the past world and Swedish champions are remarkably devoted to the sport and amazingly generous in helping younger memory sportsmen. Then there is the smug yuppie who dresses like he is giving a TED Talk and seeks to mold the sport into something that he can monetize.
And it has plenty of slyly funny moments – just as our yuppie complains about a former champ making the sport look like it’s just for oddballs, the old geek wanders through a competition with an alarming case of Plumber’s Butt.
The film’s epilogue notes that one of the subjects won the World Championship in 2013. He repeated his win in 2014.
Sweden’s Coolest National Team, which flies past the audience in a just-right 58 minutes, will have its North American premiere at Cinequest on February 25 and play again on February 27 and March 1, all at Camera 12.
In the droll Swedish dramedy Force Majeure, a smugly affluent family of four vacations at an upscale ski resort in the French Alps. The wife explains to a friend that they take the vacation because otherwise the husband never sees the family. But, while the wife is blissed out, the kids fidget and complain, and the hubby sneaks peeks at his phone.
Then there’s a sudden moment of apparent life-and-death peril; the husband has a chance to protect the wife and kids, but instead – after first securing his iPhone – runs for his life. How do they all go on from that revealing moment? The extent that one incident can bring relationships into focus is the core of Force Majeure.
Clearly, the family has a serious issue to resolve, but there’s plenty of dry humor. In the most cringe worthy moments, the wife tries to contain her disgust, but can’t keep it bottled up when she’s in the most social situations. The couple repeatedly huddle outside their room in their underwear to talk things out, only to find themselves observed by the same impassive French hotel worker. The most tense moments are interrupted by an insistent cell phone vibration, another guest’s birthday party and a child’s remotely out-of-control flying toy.
Force Majeure is exceptionally well-written by writer-director Ruben Ostlund. It’s just his fourth feature and the first widely seen outside Scandinavia. He transitions between scenes by showing the machinery of the ski resort accompanied by Baroque organ music – a singular and very effective directorial choice.
Force Majeure was Sweden’s submission for the Best Foreign Language Oscar. It is available on DVD from Netflix and streaming from Amazon, iTunes, Vudu and Xbox Video.
[I’ve included the trailer as always, but I recommend that you see the movie WITHOUT watching this trailer – mild spoilers]
