Valeur sentimentale

Sentimental Value reflects Joachim Trier's Norwegian cultural environment while exploring the psychology of generational trauma. With nuance and compassion, the film shows how parents' choices reverberate through their children's lives, shaping identity and memory. Trier suggests that reconciliation across generations, though fragile, is possible. I found this movie both profound and tender. It triggered long conversations with my wife about our own lives and efforts to raise our children in a supportive and loving environment through both happy and challenging times.

Why do genius film artists like Norway's Jochim Trier make movies like "Sentimental Value"?

Why fill a movie screen with the pain some fathers and daughters have expressing their love?

That question crossed my mind as I watched the fragile drama unfold. But by the time it reached its precarious victory in the last scene, I had my answer.

Winner of this year's Grand Prize at Cannes, nominated for numerous Golden Globes, expect to see "Sentimental Value" up for a lot of Oscars, too, including Best Picture in English and Foreign Language.

Stellan Skarsgard delivers a masterful if maddening performance as Gustav Borg, who divorces his wife when his daughters are still young girls, but returns to the beloved family home for his ex-wife's funeral.

His reappearance rekindles unresolved resentments for the now grown Nora (Renata Reinsve) and her younger sister Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas). Then he adds some bombshell complications.

Gustav is a renowned filmmaker, now at the phase of his career where festivals honor him for his lifetime's work. Although he featured his younger daughter in one of his early masterpieces, she wisely made the decision not to go into the film business herself. Now she's a mother, a wife, and a relatively sane person.

It was older sister Nora who got the acting bug, and turned it into a somewhat successful career. She performs classic roles onstage, and her TV series did well. But all her talent comes at a price. High-strung is an understatement. Just getting her out of her dressing room and onto the stage before the curtain rises is a recurring ordeal her cast and crew mates have gotten used to.

Gustav hasn't made a movie in more than a decade, but he arrives back in his daughters' lives with a screenplay he's finally finished. It was inspired by memories of his mother, and he wants Nora to play the role.

She declines.

Just read it, he pleads.

No way, she says. (However you say that in Norwegian.) Complication No. 2: Daddy still owns the family home the daughters are so attached to. He neglected to sign it over to his wife when they divorced.

It's the setting he always had in mind writing his script. It's more than a setting, actually - it's a character, if not the star of his movie.

Not to share many more details, but Gustav Borg is an opinionated, strong-willed sort of fella - you know how those artistic types are. And so, after Nora's refusal, he finds another actress to play the role. She's Rachel Kemp, she's played by Elle Fanning, and she's as huge a screen star as, well, Elle Fanning.

That's the set-up. The interaction of the characters as they encounter, clash, love, hate and merge into each other weaves the fabric of the story.

It's probably sheer coincidence that "Sentimental Value" and George Clooney's "Jay Kelly" were released in the same awards season. Both tell the same story - the missing-in-action father who escaped into his brilliant filmmaking career rather than fulfilling the one role his daughters needed him to play.

Clooney's film is the glossy Hollywood version. "Sentimental Value" is the one that says all the things "Jay Kelly" can't. It's the honest, uncomfortable, beautiful, messy, real version.

Also like "Jay Kelly," it's a movie about making movies. Its insider sensibility is shaped by Gustav Borg's unassailable belief in his personal artistic vision. He's fond of "Oners" - scenes that go on for minutes, encompassing huge sweeps of action in a single take. He's sure his daughter is right for his script, but won't pay her the courtesy of watching her TV series or showing up to see her onstage.

You can imagine the effect of all this on temperamental Nora. Especially after he leaves her behind and tries to charm his way into the role of director/daddy for Rachel Kemp.

With the arduous vulnerability of acting such a major theme in "Sentimental Value," it's amazing to note how natural all the performances are. Elle Fanning's efforts to master her role is a movie within a movie within a movie. The actresses playing the sisters not only look alike, but share traits and mannerisms. Their bond is one of the film's joys.

And Skarsgard earns all the awards buzz coming his way for his prickly portrayal of a master artist.

As it turns out, movies are where Gustav Borg lives. His emotions, at least. Like Jay Kelly, the movies he makes are the one place he can find and reveal the love so elusive in his actual life.

Writer-director Trier shares Gustav Borg's tastes and exacting standards. The pregnant pauses in the dialogue and fades to black between scenes set the film's rhythm. The cinematography is gorgeous.

"Sentimental Value" is the opposite of "entertainment." It's the sort of movie we look into like mirrors to see ourselves.

Joachim Trier's films concern themselves with the quiet crises that shape a life. His work is marked by an unusual balance of intellectual rigor and emotional generosity: formally precise yet deeply humane, ironic without cynicism and always attentive to the small, decisive moments where lives tilt almost imperceptibly. Throughout his career, he has shown a deep attunement to the ways people try to make sense of themselves amid the shifting currents of memory and expectation.

His newest, 'Sentimental Value', sits comfortably within this body of work. Nuanced and touching, it follows film director Gustav Borg's relationship with his estranged daughters Nora and Agnes. After their mother's funeral brings the fractured family back together, old wounds, unspoken resentments and lingering affections resurface.

It is a subtle drama, saying a great deal without ever labouring its point. Trier uses the narrative to engage with a range of themes, not least the messy dynamics of familial life, generational and inherited trauma and the tension between creative ambition and emotional truth. As ever, he is less interested in resolution than in the uneasy processes by which people attempt to understand one another and themselves.

Trier's narrative, written alongside Eskil Vogt, favours conversation over confrontation, finding its drama in half spoken grievances, withheld affection and the uneasy rhythms of family interaction. Beneath these exchanges lies the quieter legacy of the past: the emotional patterns shaped by Gustav's own childhood losses and the subtle ways those patterns have drifted into the lives of his daughters.

Trier is also alert to the tensions between art and intimacy. A film Gustav is trying to make alongside Nora becomes a kind of emotional fault line, a reminder of how creativity can both illuminate and distort personal relationships. For Nora and, to a lesser extent, Agnes, participating in his work offers the possibility of connection, but also the risk of being drawn back into patterns they have spent years trying to escape. Trier treats these dynamics with characteristic delicacy, allowing the contradictions to sit side by side rather than forcing them into neat thematic conclusions.

Kasper Tuxen's cinematography extends this delicacy into the film's visual language. His images are characteristically unshowy, favouring natural light, soft contrasts and a gentle, observational camera that seems to hover at the edges of conversations rather than impose itself on them. Close ups arrive sparingly but with purpose, catching the flicker of doubt or longing that passes across a face before a character can suppress it.

Interiors are framed with a quiet warmth, while outdoor scenes carry a faint, melancholy openness, as if the landscape itself were absorbing the family's unresolved tensions. The family house itself becomes a living canvas; the beating heart of Trier's narrative. Tuxen's work never strains for symbolism; instead, it creates a visual atmosphere in which the film's emotional undercurrents can surface without fanfare (barring one moment, an unnecessary, overt nod to Ingmar Bergman's 'Persona').

Further, Jorgen Stangebye Larsen's production design reflects the film's emotional subtlety, favouring lived in spaces shaped by accumulated habits rather than overt aesthetic choices. Although some scenes seem to drag, Olivier Bugge Coutte's editing generally comes as a boon to proceedings, letting scenes breathe and conversations unfold with natural hesitations, while transitions slip by with the quiet logic of memory. In addition, Hania Rani's score, alongside an eclectic soundtrack, adds a restrained emotional undertow without ever overwhelming the drama.

The performances are uniformly strong, anchored by Stellan Skarsgard's layered and disarmingly vulnerable turn as Gustav. He plays the character not as a tyrant or a martyr, but as a man who has learned to rely on charm and avoidance, carrying old wounds he has never fully examined, with flickers of vulnerability surfacing only when he's too tired to suppress them. Renate Reinsve delivers an acting masterclass, bringing a taut, restless energy to Nora, capturing both her longing for connection and her instinctive recoil from the emotional traps she recognises all too well.

Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas, meanwhile, offers a more understated but no less affecting performance as Agnes, whose calm exterior is less a sign of certainty than a way of keeping her own doubts at bay. Together, they create a believable dynamic, each performance attuned to the film's delicate balance of affection, frustration and tragic history. In addition, Elle Fanning and Anders Danielsen Lie, in smaller roles, round out the ensemble with a quiet assurance, adding texture without ever drawing focus from the central trio.

Joachim Trier's 'Sentimental Value' is a beautifully observed drama that reaffirms his place as one of cinema's most sensitive chroniclers of human connection. Strongly acted and beautifully shot, the film is hard to fault. Attentive to the small, often uncomfortable moments through which people attempt to reconcile with the baggage they carry, it is measured, humane and quietly affecting; never sentimental, yet rich in value.

:::Watched at Scandinavian Film Festival:::

Joachim Trier's Sentimental Value is a deeply resonant family drama that eschews melodrama for emotional authenticity and psychological nuance. The film is centred on Nora, played with great restraint by Renate Reinsve, who is forced to confront her estranged filmmaker father, Gustav (Stellan Skarsgård), after the death of her mother. The family home in Oslo emerges as both setting and symbol-a container for memories and scars-which Gustav hopes to immortalise through his latest cinematic project.

Trier handles the motif of inherited trauma with tact, refusing to indulge in manipulative sentimentality. Instead, the narrative unfolds gently, through carefully observed interactions and silences. Nora, a stage actress paralysed by anxiety and divided loyalties, is caught between the burdens of family history and the demands of performance. Reinsve imbues her character with a delicate sense of unease that never spills over into theatrics, while Skarsgård navigates Gustav's arrogance and regret with a similarly subtle touch. The supporting cast, specifically Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas as Nora's sister Agnes, adds depth to the film's meditation on the countless ways familial love and resentment can coexist.

The script delicately questions the ethics of artistic catharsis, as Gustav asks Nora to recreate painful family events on camera-prompting sharp consideration of the cost of using real trauma for art. Elle Fanning, as an eager Hollywood star parachuted into the family's drama, serves as both mirror and foil to Nora, further sharpening the film's self-examination of performance, legacy, and authenticity.

Visually, Sentimental Value is quietly gorgeous, its crystalline light and carefully composed frames echoing the story's sense of longing and the weight of the past. Trier's refined direction and restrained musical choices allow every emotional beat to register fully.

What endures is the film's generosity and honesty. It does not force reconciliation but gently suggests that understanding alone could be redemptive. Sentimental Value is demanding, reflective, and full of love for flawed people, confirming Trier as one of the most perceptive filmmakers working today.

The movie is blessed with a strong scenario that would have excelented as a novella. The director/co-writer leaves just enough room to keep the audience wandering.

This film is certainly not a tearjerker. The real emotions are often hidden behind smiles. The acting is strong but subtile.

Leaving the theater I didn't have the feeling of having just watched a great movie. But when I realised a week later it still was in my head I couldn't conclude otherwise.