msilavi

"Sisu: Road to Revenge," directed by Jalmari Helander, is a clear example of a sequel that not only adds nothing to the world of the original film, but actively drifts away from even its limited achievements. While the first Sisu surprised audiences with its exaggerated yet energetic violence and a fresh, pulpy concept, this second entry is trapped in repetition, exhaustion, and a lack of purpose.

The film's central problem lies in its complete absence of tension. When the protagonist is effectively invincible from beginning to end, the narrative is stripped of any real suspense. Action beats pile up one after another, but they lack rhythm and necessity, and the film gradually collapses into a mechanical loop of hollow violence. The stylized chapter divisions and clichéd dialogue do nothing to support the structure; instead, they amplify the sense of artificiality and overextension.

On a directorial level, Helander leans more on excess than creativity this time around. Violence-once his bold stylistic signature-has now become a repetitive gesture that shocks only in the opening moments before sinking into monotony. Even a comparison with the director's earlier work, such as Rare Exports, makes it clear that this film represents a misstep rather than a progression.

"Sisu: Road to Revenge" is a loud but lifeless experience-a film that wears out its ideas instead of intensifying them, ultimately leaving behind nothing but fatigue.

This film is less an entertaining experience than a continuation of a worn-out, self-indulgent formula. Its excessively showy tone, grating characters, and complete reliance on artificial visual effects drain the work of any sense of wonder or intelligence. What is presented as "magic" is reduced to hollow computer-generated tricks rather than genuine narrative invention, while the direction proves incapable of containing this constant excess. The result is an overconfident, empty, and ultimately exhausting film.

Sentimental Value, directed by Joachim Trier, is a mature and deeply resonant work of cinema-one that weaves together memory, family, art, and unresolved wounds without slipping into excess or emotional manipulation. More than any of Trier's previous films, it moves closer to the spirit of Ingmar Bergman-not through imitation, but through a shared sense of artistic maturity and a profound trust in silence, pauses, and detail.

The film's greatest strength lies in the credibility of its human relationships. Family dynamics here are not arenas for overt confrontation, but intricate networks of gestures, silences, glances, and suppressed memories. Trier demonstrates that tension does not always erupt into shouting; sometimes it is precisely in moments of quiet that old bonds begin to breathe again. This sensibility sets the film apart from conventional melodramas and transforms it into an honest, deeply human experience.

The performances are uniformly exceptional. Renate Reinsve once again delivers a performance of remarkable subtlety, conveying inner wounds with restraint and precision, while Stellan Skarsgård gives one of the most controlled and profound performances of his career. The chemistry between the actors emerges not from emphatic dialogue, but from carefully calibrated behavioral choices and emotional understatement.

Screenplay and direction work in perfect harmony to give meaning to the notion of "sentimental value"-not as shallow nostalgia, but as a complex burden of memory, guilt, love, and generational transmission. The chapter-based structure, precise editing, and fluid cinematography lend rhythm and vitality to a dialogue-driven film without calling attention to themselves.

Sentimental Value ultimately reflects on a fundamental idea: that art is empty without lived experience, and life itself feels incomplete without art. It is a quiet, enduring, and profoundly humane film-one that continues to unfold in the mind long after it ends.