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Reviews
Så som i himmelen (2004)
You're Never Too Old to Come Home
As it is in Heaven is like a melancholy Little Miss Sunshine for Swedes. Quirky and heartwarming, this film follows a small town with a big heart, as its residents find their individual voices and learn to live together in harmony.
The story unfolds when world-renowned conductor, Daniel Dareús—who is exhausted by his high-stress career—returns to his childhood village and discovers how a small-town community can heal an aching heart. Daniel becomes the church choir director and his passion for music soon inspires the townspeople to confront the intense emotions they have repressed for years. And as these singers embrace their unique tones, Daniel too has to find how he fits into the chorus. Addressing issues of physical and emotional abuse, sexual subjugation, and the human tendency towards passivity, director Kay Pollak investigates in this internationally acclaimed film what it really means to be a community.
It is clear from the get-go that Daniel is exceptional. The opening scene is of him as a young boy, playing the violin in a golden field. As his bow strikes the strings, however, we see that his musical talent earns him nothing more than some nasty bruises and a reputation as a wimp. Daniel leaves his hometown and its bullies, and eventually establishes himself in the world of music as a hugely successful conductor. But when he suffers a severe heart attack that puts an abrupt end to his remarkable career, Daniel decides to return to very place that had nearly squelched his dreams as a boy.
Played by the superb Michael Nygvist, Daniel is a captivating mixture of bewildered, awkward, mysterious and compassionate. When he meets the vivacious, outspoken young woman named Lena (Frida Hallgren), who seems his exact opposite, his lingering stare and clumsy smile captivate her attention as well. While Daniel navigates his new position as Vespor, Lena helps him to connect with the people, reminding him when he is frustrated by interruptions during rehearsal that "coffee is important too."
While Daniel becomes more and more engaged with the choir, the minister, Stig (Niklas Falk), feels increasingly ostracized by his congregation. Through Stig's character, Pollak brings up questions about the command of organized religion over people's lives. For example, despite his wife's assurance that sexual desire is natural, Stig condemns it as a sinful act. His wife, Inger (Ingela Olsso), therefore, has had to suffer a life of sexual subjugation. As the choir evolves, Inger finds a sense of freedom and happiness form it that she have in her marriage, which leads Stig to criticize Daniel for using unconventional methods. Realizing that her husband is using religion to oppress her and the rest of the choir, Inger shouts, "there is no sin!" She denounces him, and thus the Christian Church, for trapping Christians in a perpetual state of guilt by "handing out sin with one hand and offering redemption with the other."
Gabriella (Helen Sjöholm), like Inger, finds her voice through the enlivened choir. Married to an abusive husband, Gabriella has endured years of feeling afraid and helpless. Daniel writes a song entitled "Gabriella's Song" to sing at the concert: a dangerous act, seeing as her husband disapproves of her doing anything independent. When the moment arrives, her performance is stunning; she appears empowered and full of life for the first time in the film. The song itself tells Gabriella's story, as the solo line embraces her courageous spirit, and the chorus part, like the members of the choir, supports her in her journey. Transformed, Gabriella finally leaves her husband and the townspeople cease to be passive bystanders to her husband's crimes.
As they open up to one another, the choir becomes its own congregation and the music their way of worship. However, though Daniel appears to be the minister of their spiritual community, he himself has yet to find his own voice. Lena challenges him to release his inhibitions and be vulnerable—something that his position as a world celebrity never allowed him to do. His timidity juxtaposed with Lena's boldness makes for a charming romance: yet another way in which one can learn to trust their voice and, ultimately, strengthen the voice of the community. Because As it is in Heaven is, after all, a love story: a story of how loving others makes someplace home.
Efter brylluppet (2006)
Rolf Lassgård is phenomenal in this touching film about finding your family.
Bombay. An orphanage, filled with rambunctious kids. The striking face of Denmark's biggest star, Mads Mikkelsen, is among the few adults. His character, Jacob, has been working in humanitarian efforts in India for the past twenty years but is in desperate need of funds from Denmark in order to prevent this orphanage from closing. Much to his disliking, he must return to his native country to secure the future for the beloved children. One of the orphan boys who Jacob considers family, Pramods, asks Jacob what the Denmark is like. He replies that he does not like the people because they are all rich. If he were rich, Pramods says, then he would be happy. The scene shifts suddenly to a man in his car listening to the American hit, "It's Raining Men," instantly shifting in tone from humility and worry to one of confidence and security: he is carefree. We soon find out this man is Jogen (Rolf Lassgård), one of Denmark's wealthy businessmen. Jacob's idea of selfish and coldhearted rich people, however, is soon contradicted, as Jorgen reads goofy stories aloud to his sons and then playfully slides into his wife's bubble bath, fully clothed. He appears not to be a ruthless egomaniac, but a loving father and husband. When Jacob leaves for Denmark, he plans to be business partners with Jorgen, promising Pramods that he will be back in Bombay in time for his 8th birthday. Due to a few unexpected plot-twists, however, Jacob finds himself much more intertwined in Jorgen's life than he ever imagined.
When Jacob meets Jorgen about funding the orphanage, Jorgen is completely disinterested and interrupts Jacob frequently to ask if he wants a drink (he supplies one even after Jacob replies, no). After their rude meeting, Jorgen insists that Jacob comes to his daughter's wedding the following day, a strange demand seeing as they had never met before this brief interview. At the wedding, Jorgen's wife, Helene (Sidse Babett Knudsen), sees Jacob enter, and a look of disbelief and dread fills her eyes. Directly after this, the first plot-twist appears, undisguised and melodramatic: Jorgen's daughter Anna (Stine Fischer Christensen) is not his biological daughter. We instantly understand the meaning behind Helene's troubled gaze: Jacob is Anna's father.
Director Susanne Bier's determination to make films that both utilize artistic methods and entertain is evident as she weaves together an engaging plot with symbolic images. Using extreme close-ups on the actor's lips, eyes, and fingertips, she is able to communicate the subtle nuances in the characters' expressions and movements. When Jacob bursts into Helene and Jorgen's house, demanding to talk to Helene about Anna, even the animal heads on the walls get a close-up, staring knowingly as though they have overheard each and every secret in this grand estate. After confronting his ex-girlfriend, Helene about her deception, Jacob threatens to tell Anna if she does not. Soon after, Jacob opens his hotel door to the doe-eyed Anna, waiting to come in. Finally reunited, they begin to get to know one another and it appears as though After the Wedding will be a story of how to overcome deception and begin anew. However, Bier has another trick up her sleeve.
We witnessed Jorgen become more and more embittered as the film goes on, guzzling down alcohol until he is hopelessly drunk. Helene, a compassionate and strong woman decides after a particularly nasty argument with Jorgen that something is not right and decides to investigate. She opens his hidden safe to reveal a stash of prescriptions. Jorgen is dying. Suddenly the images of dead flowers and the glazed eyes of the animals mounted on the wall take on an entirely different meaning. They have been symbols for the death by which Jorgen is constantly surrounded, as he puts on a show for the sake of his family.
Knowing that Jorgen has brought Jacob back to Denmark to replace himself when he dies, the characters must decide what their definition of family is and what duties are implied with it. Jacob is torn between his new daughter, Anna, and his family back in Bombay, Helene and Anna maneuver a changing mother-daughter relationship while coming to terms with the looming death of their husband and father, respectively. Stine Fischer Christensen's raw performance when Anna confronts her father about keeping his illness a secret is phenomenal, second only to Rolf Lassgård's heart wrenching scene when Jorgen breaks down from fear of dying, collapsing in sobs and throwing his body on the floor in a disturbing defiance, while Helene keeps her arms around him, powerless to ease his pain.
This crushing moment puts in the hearts of everyone watching the question of how one can live nobly and fully. Jorgen's selflessness shows Jacob that the line Helen spoke to him early in the film, "you don't have to be poor to be a good person," is undeniably true and that there is often more than just one honorable choice. Before his premature death, Jorgen leaves Jacob with the choice to return to the children in Bombay or to live in Denmark and support his own daughter, Anna and former lover, Helene while funding the orphanage from afar. The question After the Wedding raises is, ultimately, what is family? And How far would you go for yours?
Mies vailla menneisyyttä (2002)
The Man Without a Past: How a Loner Re-learns how to Live
If you had the chance to recreate your life, would you be where you are now? The Man Without a Past, a Finnish film by writer and director, Aki Kaurismäki, allows one man to do just that— though not in the most ideal way. After being severely beaten by three heartless crooks, this man (Markku Peltola) wakes up on a beach inhabited by the homeless (and nearly homeless) without a single memory of his former life—not even his own name. This beach community of misfits, living on the Salvation Army soup kitchen, help nurse the nameless man back to health, and he begins his bewildering struggle to build an identity from nothing.
As the nameless man (let's call him M) becomes friends with a man named Nieminen (Juhani Niemela), we see just how poor the people living on this beach are. Nieminen, we discover, is an alcoholic who spends more money on beer than his own children's dinner. Director Kaurismäki, however, does not want the audience to pity this community, but rather, to laugh at it. The people's reaction to M's bizarre situation, for example, is so blasé that they themselves become the ridiculous. "Oh, that's bad," replies Nieminen's wife when M explains his complete memory loss. Well, yes. It is.
Though it seems strange to make light of homelessness, the humor is actually what allows the audience to see the characters as people instead of basket cases. When Nieminen says he will be offended if M refuses his offer to buy him a beer, we see that even though they are dreadfully poor, the people that live on this beach still have a deep sense of pride.
As M becomes more involved in the community, he travels to the unemployment office in search of a job, as he hopes to live amongst his new friends. Kaurismäki presents a grim view of the welfare system: because he cannot provide a name for the application, M is accused of fraud and is thrown out of the employment office with no help. Kaurismäki, who worked as a post-man, dishwasher, and many other not-so-glamorous jobs before becoming a director, is sending a clear message: dignity is not determined by social class, but rather, by kindness and respect.
Shortly after his run in at the employment office, M stumbles into a job at the Salvation Army when a worker named Irma (Katie Outinen) sees that he is highly capable. With his earnings he makes a home for himself in an old storage unit near Nieminen's trailer. Among his few possessions is an old jukebox that blasts 1950s rock 'n' roll music, its lively beat invigorating the slow-paced film. Now M's love interest, Irma—the shy, conservative employee at the Salvation Army who secretly listens to American hits before bed— is easily wooed by his taste in music and unabashed affection for her. Like in M's relationship with Irma, actor Peltola is able to subtly weave M's character into our hearts until, eventually, we realize we've been rooting for him all along.
Outinen too is a superb actress. Though she has few lines, when her character Irma is with M, her expression perfectly conveys both the discomfort of an unfamiliar situation and a desire to know what will happen next. Irma is not the only one who M brings out of their shell. M teaches The Salvation Army band, which previously knew only one song (which was, quite simply, a drag), about the glory that is rock 'n' roll. They soon put on a show with the director of the Salvation Army, a woman we learn who has wanted to be a singer her whole life, and the whole community comes together to listen.
Things take a turn for the worse for M, however, when he is a witness to a hilariously simple bank robbery: one man and his rifle. The bank clerk nonchalantly brings out the money while M just stands there obliviously. "I'm sorry I have to do this," the robber says, locking them in the vault, to which M replies that he understands given the situation at hand and not to worry about it. Like the idea of a man with severe brain damage waking up in a homeless village and starting a new life with no questions asked, it's the kind of hilarious that hits you three days later when you're brushing your teeth. Unfortunately for M, the police don't find it so funny. Kaurismäki again shows a distaste for state institutions as the police unlawfully detain M for not giving them his name. Irma comes to the rescue, sending M a lawyer who promptly gets M his freedom whose face, we discover, has been plastered across newspapers with the headline "Who is this man?"
On his way back to his new home, M is told that his wife contacted the police when she saw his picture in the paper and that he can go back home. But where is home, anyway? M can take back his name, and with it his old life, or he can choose to stay with Irma and his unconventional friends. At the end of this fantastically funny film, Kaurismäki presents a dramatic ultimatum that will change everything for M, as The Man Without a Past is now the man with two futures.
Elling (2001)
A Sex-Crazed Virgin and an Agoraphobic Poet
Elling, a comedy directed by Peter Næss, tells the story of an unlikely friendship between two middle-aged outcasts in Norway: Kjell Bjarne (Sven Nordin)—a sex-crazed virgin with a heart as big as his massive frame—and Elling (Per Christian Ellefsen)—an agoraphobic amateur poet who is learning to cope with the death of his mother (his sole companion for the past forty years). The two men meet in a fashion as unconventional as their personalities: in the bedroom of a state institution. As their relationship develops and they are released from the institution, they are set up in an apartment under the supervision of the surprisingly blunt social worker, Frank Åsli (Jørgen Langhelle). Here, the two men learn everything from grocery shopping, to conquering the colossal task of answering the phone. When Kjell Bjarne strikes up a romance with their lonely neighbor, however, Elling faces his greatest trial yet: complete independence for one night. The results of this test, and the many unexpected challenges of life that these friends face, make for an hour and a half of absolute delight.
As we follow their extraordinary story, these bizarre heroes are able to make the seemingly mundane both fascinating and heartwarming. The chemistry between Ellefsen and Langhelle is tremendously funny and unwittingly charming, persuading us to root for the underdog with absolute ease. Both originally stage actors, it is clear that these men have mastered their craft. Their believable portrayal of such unbelievably kooky characters, make Elling more than just another feel-good film; it shows us how to connect with those who are disconnected.
Ellefsen, whose character's stuffy upbringing comes out in pompous commands to his oafish friend, manages to win us over us with his puppy-like helplessness juxtaposed with an excessive pride for accomplishing what we would consider to be everyday tasks. Nordin, on the other hand, instantly warms every heart in the audience with his selfless spirit, using his brute strength, rather ironically, to help anyone in need.
The true success of Elling, is that it wasn't originally intended to be a film. Ingvar Ambjørsen first brought the story of Elling and Kjell Bjarne to Norway with his novel, Bjødre I blodet (Brothers in Blood) from which director, Petter Næss adapted the play, Elling. From here the story evolved into the feature film, which surpassed its previous record of success. The usual traps of stage-to-film adaptations of awkward dialogue and unnatural movement (treating the set as a stage) are a non-issue for Naæss. The dialogue is clever but convincing and the actors move about the space as if it really is their home. Even the minor characters' reactions to Elling and Kjell Bjarne add to their believability, as they echo what we are feeling in the audience. Jørgen Langhelle's Frank Åsli as the social worker embodies our astonishment and slight frustration with Elling and Kjell Bjarne's ineptitude, while the retired poet, played by Per Christensen, expresses our sympathy for them. It is not, in other words, an intensely dramatic play shoved into the confines of a movie screen.
Using the technique of voice over, Næss was able to capture the intimacy of the original novel. He uses first-narration so that Elling's life is not some freakish spectacle for strangers to gawk at, but rather, a story he wants to tell the world. Avoiding dramatic close-ups, the film never feels invasive. The camera movements, sound production, and lighting are all discreet so that the focus is never shifted from the story. Elling conveys what is often lost in big screen production: the beauty in the subtleties of life.
As Kjell Bjarne realizes the exhilaration of love, our hearts beat flutters with anxiety too. Elling learns to trust himself and the world around him, and we wish he were in the theater sitting next to us. Elling is a story about the adventures of a sex-crazes virgin and an agoraphobic poet it's true. But they are more than just outcasts—they are artists, as their discoveries allow us to rediscover the wonders of living right along with them.