Ett hål i mitt hjärta

Moodysson's latest is an intense and disturbing barrage of shocking imagery and an unflinching view of broken people who form an attachment built as much on hatred as it is on need for companionship. The film takes a claustrophobic look at four people who live in a small flat; a porn film making man, his son and the man and woman who 'star' in his porn films. Moodysson blurs the boundaries between the porn they film and their bizarre antics to create a bewildering world of obsession a Marat Sade of contemporary mores. This is a profoundly disturbing film; ugly and noisy but with occasional moments of calm and beauty amongst the ugly sex scenes and close ups of heart and genital operations and doll mutilation. It seems that Moodysson is angry and wants to scream his anger full into the viewers face - neither easy or essential viewing but challenging and interesting.

Having loved 'Together' and admired, for the most part, 'Lilya 4-Ever' (as well as his short films), I was dreadfully disappointed with this new work from Moodyson. In an interview about 'A Hole On My Heart' Moodyson stated that he thought it was his best and most complex film, before saying that he didn't know what the film was supposed to be about, not offering any explanation other than 'it has many layers'. Such statements reveal entirely the reason behind the film's failure. Depsite Moodyson's assertion of complexity, there is simply nothing in this 90+ minute film that could not have been adequately communicated in a short. Simply juxtaposing unpleasant images of cosmetic surgery and action men figures with home-made pornography does not constitute a complex statement on anything. In fact the film is hopelessly meandering and one has the increasing feeling that it was 'discovered' in the editing room. I'm very interested in non-narrative film-making, and I don't need a 'story' to communicate events to me, but it is evident to me when there is a severe paucity of drive and ideas, and that feeling was evident throughout a viewing of this film. It concerns me that this film will be defended by people who feel that sitting through the unpleasant content constitutes some sort of test of intellectual rigour and that those who didn't like it are not prepared to 'face up' to the reality this film purports to present. In fact the simple truth is that this is an empty film, with a painful lack of understanding of how to dramatise ideas. I really hope Moodyson comes up with something better next time - I think his talents outstrip nonsense like this.

I've seen (and loved) Together and Lilya.. - this film is different, and will not appeal to the vast majority of people.

I'm not sure about the themes; that these characters ultimately need each other? The dialogue, although perhaps improvised, is at least free from cliché. The editing is a little annoying, but not really distracting. It's mainly the soundtrack that grates, with its casual use of white noise and drone. The film is essentially a day in the cramped flat filming Rickard's amateur (gonzo) porno movies, while he tries to connect with his introverted goth son / the son has a tentative yearning for the girl / the girl discovers that these people who can be so hurtful are still better than 'normal boring ugly' people / and the actor who is slightly insecure and has a confusing & frustrating habit of falling asleep, but has quite a close relationship with his friend the director. There's more to it (particularly with Rickard, the father/porno director), and the ending is characteristically upbeat (relationships resolving/issues in the open), coming off a real emotional low-point.

The film itself occasionally jumps forward & back in time, and there are a few dream sequences. The surgical cuts (literally and editorially) are scattered through the film, along with blurry out-of-context 'organic' shots, and a parallel version of what's happening in the porno film, as performed by Barbie and Action Man. I'm just not 'deep' enough to understand (or care) what all these bits mean.

Yes, the film is pretty graphic - not so much in the sex, but there is nudity on all counts (although not in a sensational way), there are intimate surgical shots, and one quick scene following a food fight which may make you feel ill (and will burn itself on your memory, whether you want it to or not).

Although I can't be bothered trying to understand or analyse the use of the surgery bits and other possible motifs, the film is mostly pretty straightforward and - if you stick with it - a fairly 'okay' plot/resolution develops by the end of the film. It just takes a while for the characters to reveal enough of themselves, because they all start out as fairly unlikeable.

I chose Moodysson's film out of another 200 at the Jerusalem Film Festival because of the good impression of Fu__ing Åmål. Apparently, he has gone to a totally different place meanwhile...

Even before genres and modes, I believe there are two basic elements for any film whatsoever: there has to be a reason, a motivation for what you see, and there needs to be some effective cinematic language in use. Some good films do well with just one, sometimes one feeds the other. My problem with Ett Hål i mitt hjärta, and eventually what made me give up watching halfway through, was that I found none.

A blatant, border-breaking experiment? nice, but after 15 minutes it got boring. A manifest against the porno industry? OK, but the shattered style blocked any attempt of mine to get closer to the characters. If anything, it reinstated how essential it is to identify with your protagonists on the screen in order to feel empathy.

I don't mind seeing labia all over the screen - there just has to be a REASON. It's the fine border between noise and music, scribbles and art.

It's a promise. Clickbait. All movie long you're just waiting for something to happen. At least evil people do evil, but these ones are actually doing nothing at all, as if stuck in a void filled with assumption and tension for a war that is never to come: next to some loud music and naked girls, there is nothing but anticipation for a non-satisfaction. Like the Rolling Stones, because Mick Jagger also has become pretty old. It just doesn't come. You can wait for it or spend a beautiful evening doing something else. This movie is better than your random scary movie but never reaches the level of Saw; rather, it's like Liz Truss: it promises, it promises, yet when the going gets tough, the tough gets going.