Pour l'éternité

After watching Roy's other films I was really looking forward to this film - as some fans had said it was his best film ever. I set myself up for a treat. But I was let down. Yes, the art direction and acting are absolutely superb. But the stories didn't work for me. I was bored.

This is really why I signed up to MUBI. Andersson's work isn't for everyone. A bit too avant garde, surreal, down right weird and okay fine it's all that, but indulge his work and you'll be rewarded. His latest About Endlessness follows his signature style of slightly hyper real looking shots, held with a locked frame for long periods of time, whilst sparse movement and dialogue sits within. These frames are made to be poured over, for meaning or simple appreciation. This is just the canvas though. Andersson's strength is what he paints on top. It's the patience in each scene, not hindered by the need to cut and trim with multiple cameras. Everything's allowed to breathe. So we get a varied cast going about their mundane lives. Sometimes with some dialogue, often in complete silence other than the sounds around them, usually with a simple narration. It's a wild trip to be honest from the waiter pouring red wine all over the pristine white table cloth, to the old man dragging a crucifix up a narrow hillside street as he's whipped. He's dreaming thankfully, but all the scenes have that quality to them. The priest who's lost faith, the boys yet to find love, the grieving parents, the woman with a broken shoe, they could all seem incidental. But then there's the floating couple above a war ravaged city where only a cathedral remains standing. On the whole it feels a little more accessible than Andersson's other films, but packs no less a punch. Some scenes will make you smile or laugh, others study in a confused awe. One or two will stop you in your tracks, for reasons of horror, sympathy or joyful retribution. You find yourself wondering which scene is your favourite, but it's impossible to choose. The shots with lots of people seem masterful in a way over the more minimal set ups, but there's always a control present that marvels. What does it all mean you might ask. Well that's the fun isn't it, whether trying to decide, interpret or simply immerse yourself in it. I'll shamelessly say I tend to favour the latter. These scenes are like paintings with a gorgeous even light and pale faced characters, but I'd say it's simply about people, moments, the things that make us human, that make us the same and distinguish us from others, all wrapped up in the fragility of our existence. Time is irrelevant. Maybe I'm wrong, who knows. What I do know, is that this is brilliant, a wonderful addition to Andersson's stunning body of work and I think we'd all rather be a tomato.

Yes. We know Anderson and his style by heart. Yes, we love him with all our heart!

But... I was a bit de-mystified by the fact that in this (potentially very meta-physical) story-composition there was MANY TIMES a voice over telling us what we just saw on our own. Chances are I truly missed the point of this, but after few minutes I felt truly annoyed by it... "yes I see myself a man with a problem that is xy" I thought many times. Was this the point?

Overall, apart from the seemingly unnecessary narrator, some of the scenes were "too light" for my taste, but I guess taste is just taste. Young people, dancing in sunlight; young people staring at each other. More profanity without the dark, underlying melancholy. Most of his other scenes in older movies feature also way more "mystical" (unexplained/riddled) situations, might they be more absurd, more surreal, more melancholic, more dramatic. Many scenes in this film felt quite "un-dramatic"... but again, maybe this was his point, finally giving us more light, more normal situations, more insight into happiness?

Apart from this point ( that I maybe didn't get): loved the absurdity, some of the actors, most of the sets (splendid as ALWAYS), the groteque, the paintinglike style, the "Andersonesque" techniques to tell a story.

Maybe one of you "unlocked" the solution to this film's mystery?

Of all the great Swedish filmmakers, none is quite as easily identifiable as legend Roy Andersson. He is known for his quirky yet miserable films where each scene -- or rather, vignette -- is done in a static, uninterrupted wide shot (barring a few highly deliberate exceptions) and showcases pale everyday Swedes with the weights of modern life constantly on their shoulders, but also ultimately basking in its beauty.

This is what made his Living trilogy iconic; About Endlessness (Om det oändliga) shakes things up a bit by having a clear leading lady, yet is still very much an Andersson movie. Like all his films, it seems so hopeless on the surface, yet we cannot escape the feeling that Andersson genuinely hopes that things will get better (suffering is simply part of the wonder). Another oxymoron is the deliberate "fakeness" of the visuals (the movie willfully looks like a stage play at points) versus how "real" the movie's being. As usual, the scenes range from simple to large and intricate - with entire lives going on in the background, usually indifferent to the main subject. The colors are as pale and sickly as the characters.

Now, I've been a huge fan of Andersson since I started the Living trilogy with A Pigeon Sat on a Branch last year (I'd say he's up there with the Bergmans and Östlunds of our sausage-shaped country). I then moved on to Songs from the Second Floor and eventually finished the journey with You the Living not too long ago. I adored all three and maybe it helped that I let each film sit with me for a while. I was ready to put About Endlessness on my 2019 list.

But since I checked on Andersson's catalog rather recently, and had seen his unmistakable style done in two more pictures before then, I'm sad to say a lot of what I saw in About Endlessness felt a little been-done. I've seen these maudlin Swedes in these hilariously sad situations before. I still enjoyed the cringe comedy, visuals, music, and the delightfully old-school Swedishness of it all, but it is no longer as extraordinary.

What sets this one apart from the Living trilogy, however, is the presence of a narrator who identifies reoccurring themes in all the vignettes, such as loneliness, love (or lack thereof), and faith. I have read that she is supposed to be an angel, and she seems to be experiencing a series of moments, similarly to how Dr. Manhattan perceives his own memories; we see past and present events in non-chronological order.

Strangely, this does not necessarily tie all the sketches together in an especially neat way. The movie may have felt more fully-realized if the different characters we meet ran into each other in sketches focusing on someone else. You the Living used this "hyperlink" method of tying together vignettes but my favorite instance of Andersson doing this must be the final shot of Songs from the Second Floor, which haunts me to this day. One might suspect that the vignettes we see here are scenes that Andersson deleted from his previous films since they didn't fit together with the rest anyways, but Andersson is hardly so thoughtless.

I will say this, though: this was an inordinately pleasant screening. The local multiplex didn't play it, of course (factory-made stuff like Charlie's Angels and The Lion King is clearly more important than art), so I had to go to the arthouse cinema/cultural center, where you can have a burger and alcohol before the film and whatnot; my first time going there since the Die Hard anniversary screening one year ago (I'll be there with someone special for their celebration of Akira next week, as well). I was the only attendee under 60.

Greetings again from the darkness. A quarter-century once elapsed between feature films for Swedish filmmaker Roy Andersson. He only directed a handful of short films between "GILLIAP" (1975) and SONGS FROM THE SECOND FLOOR (2000). Mr. Andersson makes Terrence Malick look prolific. He's certainly not a traditional filmmaker and this latest is not a typical movie. In fact, its highest and best use may be in a graduate Psychology or Philosophy class, so that the mental capacity of students can be stretched and tested to determine whether Andersson is celebrating life or bemoaning our existence.

The narrator begins most segments with something along the lines of: "I saw a man ...", "I saw a woman ...", "I saw parents ...", and "I saw a couple floating ...". These lead us into static one shot vignettes with little or no dialogue. For example, in the first segment, a woman on a park bench concludes with, "It's September already." There is a priest who makes a recurring appearance as one who has lost his faith. In another, parents have lost a son. The emphasis is on the artistic impression and one's own interpretation.

Over the opening, and again later in the film, we see a couple floating over the ruins of Cologne. It's Andersson's take on Chagall's 1918 painting, "Over the Town". Another segment is a recreation of Hitler's bunker in Kukryniksy's 1946 painting, "The End". These are simple, stark, low-key snapshots in time. The color palette seems to be off-gray, and the sun never shines in this world - there's no tanned skin in the bunch. Andersson offers just enough moments of hope/happiness to prevent this from being 80 minutes of full-on depression. We always think he's trying to tell us something, but can't always decipher what the intended message is. Like the best art, it's up to your interpretation, and surely dependent on individual perspective.

Release delayed due to COVID-19.