Roy Andersson's Swedish Love Story

Details: Parent Category: Film Festivals; Category: Reviews; Published on Tuesday, 15 September 2009 10:23; Written by marion d s dreyfus

Over the weekend several films by Swedish filmmaker Roy Andersson were showcased at The Museum of Modern Art as part of a retrospective of the veteran Swedish director's work (from Sept. 10-18). The hard-to-categorize moviemaker was there to introduce a number of his screenings, which helped settle many of the questions that had unsettled this writer in the viewings.

Andersson not only spoke about his craft and goals with those who flocked around him (standing room only, for this relatively obscure auteur) but also generously took questions after the screenings.

His films are layered, hard to describe, except as a sort of Swedish Woody Allen. Ironic humor shoots through sad, absurd, lacerating and painful cut-outs of Swedish sentiment and living. Women tell their lovers to get lost. Customers are treated with short-shrift irritation by put-upon barbers. Dinner guests who don't know anyone at the table, or their hosts, pull the tablecloth out from under priceless crockery--to predictably disastrous results. Dreams are given realer life than "life" is given. People shout (something that in life, from personal experience, Swedes rarely if ever do) and become violent.

People casually display SS tattoos on well-weathered arms. Swastikas adorn the polished mahogany top surfaces of wealthy and presumably middle-class burghers. People have sex where one party is completely obsessed with his failing business, as his paramour is Oohing and Ahhing obliviously above him. Elderly people stand on chairs in Germanic-seeming solidarity.

Andersson answered this very question on this matter in the lilting low-country-accented English made famous by many Swedish actors in the '60s and '70s Scandinavian film heyday: "The Swedes, and Europeans in general, were secretly hoping that hitler would win WWII. It was only when the battle of Stalingrad occurred that people uneasily began to shift to the Allies. But throughout Europe, people still feel some sort of kinship with the Nazis and Hitler. That is why I have these symbols in my films--they are still angry, unresolved, still partially committed to the 'loser' of that war." He grinned, “They think wearing these symbols makes them strong and frightening.”

If you are not aware of this intriguing filmmaker, who has been working for the past 40 years, albeit not always in commercial film, then check out this MoMA retrospective. Both You the Living" and "A Swedish Love Story," were screened among a program of his key works. Andersson also mentioned that his film was originally titled just "A Love Story," but he was advised that by adding the word "Swedish" it would boost its commercial value considerably. While we laughed, it is arguably true.

Some of what he showed--and how he answered questions--suggested a country unresolved in its feelings since WWII, still in some ways pretending to be happy with the status quo. There was a cameo role of a clearly immigrant Muslim, but one who, because these immigrants have been in Malmo and elsewhere for nigh on 20 years, speaks fluent, flawless Swedish. Two decades ago, such an unremarked-upon auslander would not have appeared in the filmography.

Europe is changing, and these films reflect that, consciously or otherwise. Andersson merits a look-see, as many reviewers have already noted.

Roy Andersson’s work is presented by
the Museum of Modern Art
from September 10 – 18, 2009