Roy Andersson is back -- and treading water -- with ABOUT ENDLESSNESS

They're all here, once again, those special pleasures of viewing a film by Swedish master Roy Andersson: the stationary camera, perfect compositions, elegance, ugliness, humor (dry, dark), and above all quietude -- even amidst what would normally be considered a terribly trying time (a modern-day Christ being persecuted as he carries his cross uphill in one of those uber-sanitary Scandinavian towns). 

Beginning with a Chagall-like image (above) of a man and woman floating in the sky, Andersson's newest, ABOUT ENDLESSNESS, is only his fourth full-length film in 20 years. None of these are what you'd call lengthy (maybe 95 or 100 minutes), and his new one lasts but 78. 

Yet for TrustMovies, this one seems the longest, thanks to a certain repetition and sameness that have clearly set in to the filmmaker's work (Mr. Andersson is shown at right). Not that his situations are the same (though they are often pretty similar), but his themes -- from religion, war, commerce, communication (or the lack of it), and a populace that is at best utterly brainwashed -- remain front and center, with little new to be said about any of these. 

What the filmmaker has done, I think, is to pare down each of his segments more and more to what is currently coming very close to the bone. (Andersson has always been a minimalist; he's simply more so now.)

He's right, of course, in that society is certainly not changing (except for the worse), but then neither is his own vision. And since there are usually a few years inserted between his last and the debut of his latest, we're more primed for yet another chapter of Andersson-ville.

And so as About Endlessness was unspooling, I found myself, as ever, engaged with the simultaneous beauty/ugliness of it all. At the same time, my mind wandered back to his first (and still best) full-length film, Songs From the Second Floor, and how much more deeply, movingly, often shockingly, these same themes were rendered.

Well, society certainly ain't changing ('cept for the worse), so can you blame a filmmaker for staying his course? (Even treading water, Roy Andersson puts most other movie-makers to shame in so many ways.) And if we perceive an awful lot of state-sanctioned, by-rote behavior here, I can also tell you that the likes of Adolf Hitler makes an appearance, as well.

The refrain, "I saw a man..." (or sometimes a woman) occurs often here, as do forms of love and even thermodynamics. And if I can detect any really special loathing of Andersson's, it just might be toward psychotherapy and its practitioners (maybe even toward the entire medical profession). 

I might suggest that it's time for Andersson to move on, but as the world appears to be arriving at its  end, in its own not-so-good time, perhaps it is this filmmaker who is the best choice to help us properly embrace it all.

From Magnolia Pictures, in Swedish with English subtitles (damn few, actually; fast, snappy dialog is not Mr. Andersson's thing) and running 78 minutes, About Endlessness opens theatrically this Friday, April 30 in limited release. (It will not be challenging Godzilla and King Kong for the box-office crown.) Click here for more information on the film and its theatrical and/or digital-viewing venues.

Scandinavian soap suds, served up in style: Hannes Holm's funny/sad A MAN CALLED OVE

A mainstream/art-house crowd-pleaser nonpareil, A MAN CALLED OVE, adapted (from the international best-seller by Fredrik Backman) and directed by Hannes Holm (shown below), is certainly this year's guilty pleasure. And guilt will be a by-product of viewing. Not having read the book, I can't say whether or not it is as manipulative as is this movie -- which, yes, left me in tears, even as I kicked myself in the ass for being such a patsy. The film withholds important information about its protagonist and his deceased wife for what seems like eons, and although it initially presents its hero as the world's worst curmudgeon, it takes far too little time before he is revealed as -- no? yes! -- an adorable old teddy bear, after all.

So far, so typical. But the story here is extremely incident-prone and consequently pretty interesting, while the performances from the four leads are terrific, going a very long way towards pulling us in and refusing to release us until we've experienced every last giggle, snort and tear. And oh, boy -- do we ever.

The quartet of actors who do so much toward making the movie special is led by star, Rolf Lassgård (above, and so good as TV's original Wallander). This actor nails every last moment and emotion quite beautifully. He's a consistent pleasure to watch in action.

As his younger self, Filip Berg (above) is near-perfect as the socially inept earlier version who has lost both his mother, as a child, and his father, later, to untimely deaths.

Ida Engvoll (above) is the pert and precious wife of Ove, and she makes the most of her many flashback scenes.

But it is Iranian actress Bahar Pars (above) who completes the picture from so many angles, as Ove's new Persian neighbor who befriends him and, despite his several protestations, changes his life in precise and enjoyable increments. Two subplots (about rescuing first a suddenly homeless gay young man, and then a paralyzed neighbor about to be placed in a rest home) are handled far too quickly and easily to be believed.

Things move along, flashing back and forth in time, as expected, until the moving (and also expected) finale and denouement, handled with the same straight-ahead style and suds as the rest of the film. Those who've already read that novel will flock to the film, probably bringing along a few friends and/or spouses who can handle English subtitles, and who will no doubt leave the theater surprisingly satisfied and murmuring, "Hey, this was good!"

From Music Box Films, in Swedish with English subtitles, and running 116 minutes, the movie opens simultaneously this Friday, September 30, in New York City (at the Angelika Film Center and the Paris Theatre), Los Angeles (at Laemmle's Royal), Minneapolis, Seattle and at several theaters in the greater Chicago area. Over the weeks to come it will open throughout the rest of the country. Here in Florida, you can catch it, come October 21, in Sarasota (at the Burns Court), and on October 28 in the Miami area at the Tower Theater and the AMC Sunset Place; in Fort Lauderdale at the Gateway Theatre and the AMC Aventura; in Boca Raton at the Living Room Theater; and at The Movies of Delray and The Movies of Lake Worth. To see all currently scheduled playdates, with theaters and cities listed, click here -- and then scroll midway down the screen to click on THEATERS in the task bar.

Roy Andersson completes The Living Trilogy with another profound, deadpan winner: A PIGEON SAT ON A BRANCH REFLECTING ON EXISTENCE

Whether or not you already know the work of Swedish filmmaker Roy Andersson, his latest very dark and often very funny foray into humanity and our foibles, A PIGEON SAT ON A BRANCH REFLECTING ON EXISTENCE, will be a must-see. There is literally no moviemaker anything like our Mr. Andersson (shown below) whose work is singular --
and then some.

His compositions are painterly -- they may remind you of Edward Hopper (with much brighter lighting) -- while his theme is about as weighty as they get: humanity in all its sad, silly, horrible glory. His style is deadpan in the extreme and runs the risk of eventually allowing a certain sameness to set in. And yet the combination of all this remains provocative, funny, moving and quietly horrifying throughout.

What is missing, perhaps, once you have seen the first or second film in this trilogy -- respectively Songs from the Second Floor and You, the Living -- is any element of surprise. You'll pretty much know what you are getting, and it will be mostly more of the same. And yet, when "the same" is as good as what Andersson dishes out, you'll probably line up for seconds. (And thirds: This is a trilogy, after all).

As weighty as are his themes and ideas, they are brought to life in the most quiet, nearly routine fashion.  This film begins with three encounters with death (one of which is shown above) -- as though we're getting the beginnings of several Six Feet Under episodes all at once, but in Andersson's inimitable style.

From there we go to a dance class in Flamenco, in which the teacher clearly has a untoward (and unreturned) attraction to one of her students. We meet a few of these characters again, along with many others with their special problems, especially two middle aged men (below) whose job it is to sell novelty products to their peers. (Yes, those vampire fangs are supposedly very big sellers!) This will no doubt bring to mind the fellow from Songs from the Second Floor who hawks crucifixes.

We come to know these two fellows pretty well, and take sorrow, as well as some laughs, from their economic predicament (and especially from their pretty awful living quarters, run by a particularly unfeeling bureaucrat). The film also moves back in time to the days of WWII, below, to give us a memorable scene in a bar, which we also visit in more modern days.

Barrooms and drinking play an important part in all Andersson's movies, offering characters a respite from their troubles but not, unfortunately any real connection to each other. Among the movie's several  pièces de résistance are one scene in which dark-skinned people are force marched into a very odd looking object (below) and then.... This manages to combine slavery with The Holocaust in such a way that we watch open-mouthed and spellbound in horror -- and yet not a drop of blood is shed, within our purview, at least.

Another fine few moments occurs while a lab technician chats on the phone even as her subject -- a petrified, imprisoned monkey -- is given grueling electric shocks. At many points along the way, the rather standard phrase, "I'm happy to hear you're dong fine!" is repeated by one person to another. It is especially shocking during that monkey moment, in which it is used to to underscore our habit of animal abuse, just as, elsewhere, it offers up the abuse of humans by other humans.

It is a dark and ugly world Mr. Andersson inhabits and films -- in often brightly lit scenes of great depth (in terms of both what the camera takes in and its message to our soul). In what may be the most bizarre and hypnotically fervid section, a local bar is invaded by soldiers (shown below) who are clearly from another era. They sweep all the women from the bar and then bully the remaining men.

Who they are and why they are here matters less than what they do and want. A later scene offers up the results of their visit, showing us war's defeat, along with the utter uselessness of "royalty." If arthouse audiences can be coaxed out of their too-mainstream shell to take a look at Andersson's work, I suspect many of them will be converted. What they will see is simply too strange and amazing to be easily shrugged off.

A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is probably as good a place to begin as any in this trilogy. My favorite by far is Songs from the Second Floor, but that may be because it was the first I encountered. Andersson's themes do not change, only the individual scenes by which he brings them to life (or death). That is plenty.

The movie, from Magnolia Pictures and running 100 minutes (the longest of Andersson's three, but the other two are only 98 and 95), opens this Wednesday in New York City at Film Forum and Lincoln Plaza Cinema, and will hit another 23 cities/theaters in the weeks to come. (Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates.) I noted with surprise and dismay that none of these theaters is in the Los Angeles area (Angelenos will have to travel to Santa Barbara to see this one). Surely there might be one single theater in all of L.A. willing to offer its clientele an edifying challenge like this? 

A don't-miss sci-fi goes straight to DVD/Digital; Antonio Tublén's amazing LFO: THE MOVIE

How's this for irony: One of the best sci-fi movies in recent years -- LFO: The Movie, by Swedish filmmaker Antonio Tublén -- doesn't even get a theatrical release in its home country, let alone in America. Oh, it's played film festivals around the world (nearly two dozen of 'em) before finally making its DVD and digital debut here last month. I guess we can be grateful for that. But, still: One has to wonder at the obtuse nature of film distribution in these days when almost everything else hits theaters.

Film buffs will be grateful for what they're able to see -- in whatever format -- but what straight-to-DVD-and-digital means in this case is that a genuine "original" won't get the publicity necessary to put it on the map. Too bad, but consider this your alert -- LFO: The Movie is just too good to miss. Mr. Tublén, shown at right, has graced us with a sci-fi film that, if I am not mistaken, traffics in zero special effects. That's right. In this case, it's all about your mind. What you know, what you see, and what you hear -- and how you can piece all this together.

Don't get me wrong. LFO is not a difficult film to follow. It's rather simple, in fact. A nerdy, techie who specializes in sound (a wonderfully rich and expansive performance by Patrik Karlson, above and below) discovers how to control the minds of others via sound and begins to put this to use in his local neighborhood.  Now, I think this is done via sound waves. The science here may take some suspension of disbelief, but then that is true in almost all sci-fi movies, right? Once you accept the movie's premise, you're in for a shocking, funny, dirty, surprising and finally moving ride.

How our non-hero uses his new discovery/toy on his friends and neighbors is one thing; how the filmmaker delivers the guy's family -- wife and son -- is something else entirely, and this is handled, as is everything here, simply and spectacularly well.

Basically, the movie is a entertaining treatise on the uses of power -- first as our guy lords it over his attractive new neighbors, Lin and Simon (played nicely by Izabella Jo Tschig, above, right and Per Löfberg, above, left) and then any of the odd folk (police, insurance investigator, and another would-be scientist/competitor) who show up unwanted -- initially in ways rather minor but soon more and more widespread.

If at first this story seems small and housebound, wait. Eventually its reach will become huge, going places and dragging you along where you would never have expected, given the film's beginning and much of its continuation.

LFO also allows that a character can indeed change and grow, something one does not always get from sci-fi films these days. And if it is, to boot, a comedy, as is noted in the press materials, it's a very dark one. That, as much as anything else, is what probably scared off a theatrical release.

You can view LFO: The Movie -- from Dark Sky Films, in Swedish with English subtitles and running 94 minutes -- now on DVD digital and streaming. It is more than worth a watch.

Swedish Oscar Bait, 2014: Ruben Östlund's crystalline and unsettling FORCE MAJEURE

One of the most interesting films of this past year and, in its way, one of the most daring explorations of "manhood" and its discontents, FORCE MAJEURE, the new Swedish film from Ruben Östlund (as well as that country's submission for this year's Best Foreign Language Film), is a brilliantly conceived look at the male imperative as seen from inside and out, subjectively, objectively, and just about every which way.

And yet, blissfully for the inveterate moviegoer, Östlund's film (the moviemaker is shown at right) is never didactic; it shows rather than tells, and neither is it judgmental. It allows us to really watch and consider and be pushed and pulled back and forth as we identify with husband, wife, friends and children, even hotel employees -- as we try to come to terms with what has happened and what this means. Is what happened a "deal-breaker," or is the behavior that follows the event what matters more? Can anything -- after this kind of moment occurs -- count at all?

The central event takes place early on, and if you've seen the not-very-good film by Julia Loktev, The Loneliest Planet, you'll know what that events entails. Loktev's movie failed because of its refusal to explore, not just the event itself, but even simple characterization of those involved in it. Force Majeure explores it all, even as it entertains us spectacularly well by being intelligent, specific, encompassing and even quite a bit of fun.

I'd rather not give away details here; you deserve to discover and ponder them for yourself. Suffice it to say that the film's husband (a sterling job from Johannes Kuhnke, above, left) while on a family vacation at a resort in the French Alps, does something pivotal about which he must come to terms if he is to save his marriage and most probably himself.

How he does this -- with the help (and sometime hindrance) of wife, friends, kids -- is the meat of Force Majeure, and it makes a tasty, nourishing meal. Writer/director Östlund has a way with both words and pictures, keeping us spellbound and off-kilter from his first scene (above) -- in which a photographer at the resort in which the family is staying takes photo after photo of our crew -- to the final moments in which we see characters simply walking. But, oh, what energy is felt here!

The character of the wife slowly comes to the fore as the movie unfurls, and Lisa Loven Kongsli (above, left) does a crack job of deciphering her, while allowing us to gradually understand the woman. Male and female "roles" are explored here about as well as I've seen done in decades of film-going.

Subsidiary roles are performed beautifully, too, especially dad's best friend, played by Kristofer Hivju (above) and his a-bit-too-young girlfriend (Fanni Metelius). In a relatively (considering the events here) easy-going, believable manner, our current and rather long-standing ideas about manhood are held up to view and possibly challenged. But the filmmaker doesn't unduly push us in any direction, which is one of the beauties of this movie.

The conclusion(s) audiences will themselves arrive at may differ, but I doubt there will be be much disagreement regarding the strengths of Force Majeure -- which is one, major, satisfying movie. From Magnolia Pictures and running 118 minutes, it opens today, Friday, October 24, in New York City at the Angelika Film Center and Lincoln Plaza Cinema. The following Friday, October 31, it hits another dozen cities (in L.A., it plays at several Laemmle theaters), and will continue its nationwide opening in cities across the country in the weeks and months to come. Click here to all currently scheduled playdates.

Jan Troell's THE LAST SENTENCE: how to deal with the Nazis in "neutral" Sweden during WWII

Whew -- this is the third new film (from abroad, of course) to give us succulently good black-and-white cinematography in about as many weeks. First Ida, then A Coffee in Berlin, and now THE LAST SENTENCE (Dom över död man), the new movie from award-winning (and Oscar-nominated) Swedish director Jan Troell (shown below). Those of you who love black-and-white films will want to take a look. And though its visuals may be the main reason to view the film, there are others, as well.

This is another up-close-and-personal look at Sweden during World War II, when that country insisted on its "neutrality" and so escaped, as did Switzerland, the more complete Nazi takeover that the rest of Europe and Scandinavia underwent. In the latter days of our own fake and unnecessary wars -- from Vietnam to our current forays into Iraq, Afghanistan and maybe now Syria (they do no good for us, except to keep the big corporations profiting, and cause unbelievable harm to those we pretend to be helping) -- it may be difficult for the younger generation to understand what the world was like when one crazy dictator in one sheep-like country managed to convince its citizens that Germany joined with Austria (and then Italy and Japan) could take over the whole world. Yes, this does sound like the plot of some SuperHero-fueled blockbuster, but there you are. Or were.

Though it deals with life in pre- and then wartime Sweden, The Last Sentence is really more of a character study. The character here -- and what a character he is! -- is a real-life fellow named Torgny Segerstedt (played by the fine Jesper Christensen, shown above and below), who reigned as editor-in-chief of one of the Swedish newspapers at that time. Torgny, as we see in the film's very first moments, is thoroughly anti-Nazi/anti-Hitler. In most other ways, however, he's one cold, narcissistic son-of-a-bitch.

The movie opens with a quote from Torgny himself: "No human being can withstand close scrutiny," which is pretty much bullshit, though it would certainly apply to Segerstedt. I think a lot of us humans could withstand close scrutiny. Our flaws would be revealed, of course, but if we have half a notion of who we are, this will not cause us to fall apart. Clearly, it would do so for Segerstedt. As the movie progresses, we find out why.

It progresses rather slowly, however, and somewhat repetitively, and that is the main problem with Mr. Troell's work. (This was not true of his most recent narrative movie, Everlasting Moments, which was long but full of life and incident.) Torgny, as seen here, is just not all that interesting a man. Once we learn of his political stance, and then of his treatment of the women in his life (he does love his dogs, however!), there is not much more to keep us watching -- except perhaps the surprise we get from seeing older characters involved in extra-marital affairs, having sex and doing things that Hollywood sets aside only for the young (or sometimes for an older man and younger woman). This is certainly bracing -- for a time, at least.

We also get an interesting sense of what it might have been like, back in the 1930s and 40s to engage in what was called an "open marriage." Torgny is "having it off" with the wealthy Jewish wife of the man who owns the newspaper that he edits, and it is clear that this newspaper owner knows what is going on and accepts it. Torgny's wife also knows what's afoot, but is not nearly so accepting.

We get small forays into the past, as Torgny sees himself as a child, engages in conversation with his long dead mother, and also -- eventually -- with the other women who have "left" him. By the time the movie ends, this fellow has quite an otherworldly harem.

Over all, we get more than a decade of Segerstedt's life, including a couple of incidents that show how bright and conniving he could be vis a vis the Swedish government's obeisance to the Nazis. We also see that he was most probably a good enough writer. He was indeed brave with his pen (which his paramour is fond of calling his "lance," though it was clearly his other lance in which she was most interested).

There are also excellent performances from Pernilla August (above and below) as Torgny's paramour, Ulla Skoog as his put-upon wife, Björn Granath (below, right) as the cuckolded husband, and a very quiet, sad job from Johanna Troell as Torgny's helpful but completely ignored daughter. That fine cinematography, by the way, comes via Mischa Gavrjusjov.

The Last Sentence -- from Music Box Films and running two hours and six minutes -- opens this Friday, June 20, in New York City at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, and in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal in West L.A. In the weeks to come, it will open in another nine cities. Click here and then click on THEATERS, midway down the screen, to see all currently scheduled playdates.