This film really hit me. I've consumed a lot of media with mental illness recently and was surprised to catch this as it was leaving MUBI. There are moments in this film that were well captured - especially the playing of scenarios beforehand and the little details which come around. A few issues with the cast, but a wonderful watch with a score that really works to complement the scenes.
A boldly innovative exploration of a deeply sincere friendship through literature and life. Trier's use of a fractured narrative, intercut with imagined futures and lingering memories, is dazzlingly effective at conveying the radical fictionality of conscious experience. Anders Danielsen Lie has an unquestionable screen intensity that adds a deep sincerity to his role. A stunningly bold first feature.
Stylistically interesting , with a well told and realistic story. That being said the characters are pretty unlikable, with a fucked up view of women. Apart from perhaps it's knowing nod to itself, in the book review of being "form without substance" and the end phrase "Slut" a wink to its misogynistic message. Whether it knows it or not this film doesn't really have much to say.
Not a bad film, at all, but almost every scene feels as if it is trying a bit too hard. Performances are generally pretty good, the script is okay, and there's nothing much to complain about. But there's also nothing much that stands out as unique or incredibly incisive, despite the intentions.
Watchable film about a group of pseudo intellectual's first forays into the literary world. Some interesting dialogue, but what the film lacks in substance perhaps it compensates for in form. Perhaps that is the point of this cliched meandering through the egotistical creative ambitions of a young male 20-something. Nicely shot and mainly enjoyed for the photography in Oslo. Otherwise slightly tepid.
I liked it a lot while viewing it but afterwards it seemed a bit hollow: it's a finely crafted tale of distinctly immature youngish, rich urbanite Norwegians doing their creative/angst thing. Aged around 25/30 they seem to enjoy the type of music I liked when I was 15. Bit weird in the end.
Dynamic, electric, stylish, Trier goes all the way flamboyant in this romanticised view of youth and, particularly, the artsy bourgeoisie where he precariously walks a rope, dangerously swinging from positive exhuberance to self-indulgent pretentiousness. Towards the end the language is far less able to hide the void beneath the premise, the tired predicaments and relentless drama feel, quite frankly, pointless.