OSLO, AUGUST 31ST: NOT THE HAPPIEST THING OUT THERE

Oslo, August 31st might be the most depressing film I've seen all year; an honor that last year went to Steve McQueen's unnerving meditation on addiction, Shame.  Plainly put, this Norwegian import isn't about to alter anyone's opinion that there's a strong proclivity within Scandinavian cinema to delve into dark territories; redemption isn't what this film is about, folks.  It'd be a crime if its downcast subject matter ended up denying it an audience, though.  While there's no doubt that this is an exceptionally bleak work, the film does far more in its 95 minutes than just gaze into the abyss.  Oslo, August 31st is a work of great filmmaking, offering an emotional experience that lingers far after the curtain closes on the tale it tells.

The film follows Anders (Anders Danielsen Lie), a recovering drug addict who is given a day pass from his rehab program.  Before he leaves the institution, he makes an unsuccessful attempt to drown himself by walking into a lake while clutching a heavy stone.  Shortly after, he visits his old friend Thomas (Hans Olav Brenner) whose now domesticated existence runs counter to the days when the two men used to rage together.  Anders soon confronts Thomas with the plan he's been harboring: he's going to deliberately shoot a lethal dose of heroin.

Everything that follows that revelation becomes sharply divided into arguments for and against the decision.  Anders believes that it's too late to begin anew, despite only being in his early 30s; something that's reinforced by a botched job interview where his past seems to limit his future prospects.  Rebutting that perspective are the multiple meetings he has over the course of the day with friends and old lovers, as well as a brief, beautiful encounter that hints at the possibilities available to him, if only he can muster the will to seize them.

Director Joachim Trier understands the necessity for the debate to unfold organically, allowing very little hope that Anders will be turned from his stated objective.  We watch as he floats through Oslo like a disembodied soul, barely present as he listens in to conversations in crowded rooms, offering nearly the same presence when overhearing the interactions of others as he does in those exchanges in which he is actively engaged.  It's frustratingly sad to watch.  With all the reasons why Anders should choose life plainly on display, it's still impossible to shake the fear that he'll act on his grievous intentions.

With Oslo, August 31st, Trier gives us an incredibly powerful look at a dispossessed individual at the end of his rope.  He's crafted a humanely rendered depiction that motivates, instead of manipulating, the audience to care deeply for what happens to its protagonist.  It's moving, sorrowful trip through a city by a man who has given up on his life.  And as difficult as it is to watch as the film dives deeper into hopelessness, it would be far harder to look away from a film as perfectly conceived as this one.

Highly recommended.

Oslo, August 31st begins its run at Living Room Theaters on Friday, August 31st.  More info available here.


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Best of 2011 --> six through ten

#10 The Future (dir. Miranda July):

I admired Miranda July's previous film, Me and You and Everyone We Know, but was still befuddled by the sheer amount of ink spilled on its behalf back in 2005.  After seeing her second feature,  I am absolutely drinking the Kool-aid now.

July dials back the more twee aspects of her art and finds herself capable of weaving the various ideas at play in The Future into a piece with far more cohesive center.

A thoroughly captivating, touching and relatable film with great insight into the disconnects and moments of stasis that plague every relationship.  Placing too much emphasis on the future, it seems to forward, can effectively poison both it and the present.

#9 Take Shelter (dir. Jeff Nichols):

Michael Shannon exudes a helpless confusion bordering (and sometimes crossing into) manic violence in Jeff Nichols' follow-up to his phenomenal debut (Shotgun Stories). Shannon plays Curtis, a man reaching the age at which his mother began to manifest signs of schizophrenia. Cue the waking hallucinations and recurring nightmares, all of which deal either with an oncoming storm or a betrayal by someone close to him.

Nichols deftly directs his own screenplay, never allowing the material to get overtaken by the symbology employed throughout the story. The strain on the relationship between Curtis and his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain) is, appropriately, given more weight than the moments where Curtis is frozen in his tracks by the visions that plague him.

Although Take Shelter falls just short of possessing the power of Shotgun Stories; one of the best of the prior decade, both films are riveting testaments to the collaborative powers of Nichols and Shannon. Here's hoping their relationship continues to bloom onscreen.

#8 Melancholia (dir. Lars von Trier):

A film that fully embodies the feeling of a cold, disabling depressive bout. Von Trier takes a gigantic risk by revealing his cards early on in the first several minutes of the film. After giving the viewer an idea of what to expect, via the seductively beautiful introduction, he leaves us to suffer through the long, emotionally-muted slog to a conclusion already foretold.

Despite the high demands it puts on the viewer, Melancholia is exceedingly difficult to look away from, punishing us as we engage with it.

#7 Certified Copy (dir. Abbas Kiarostami):

Most movies define their characters early on, never straying far from those initial impressions of who it is we are watching. Certified Copy moves in an entirely different fashion. Kiarostami plays a shell game with the audience, telling us first who these people (Juliette Binoche and William Shimell) are before throwing us a long curve that lasts throughout the rest of the film.

In many ways, Certified Copy is reminiscent of pictures like Mindwalk and My Dinner with Andre, an odd duck of a microscopic sub-genre of cinema built around captivating conversations, rather than the standard focus on actions and scenarios.  Hit the link to read what I had to say about the film last February.

#6 Shame (dir. Steve McQueen):

Quite simply, the best performances I saw last year were on display in Steve McQueen's Shame. Michael Fassbender, reunited with his director from Hunger, stretches beyond himself, fully projecting the image of man hollowed out by sexual addiction. It's a layered performance that mixes compulsion with humiliation, all tempered with a strong dose of alienation.

Carey Mulligan is incredibly solid as well, mining the tension within several places to memorable effect. The extended moment in which she sings is probably the most exquisitely painful to behold; this in a film filled with difficult moments throughout.

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