by usia review

A house is much more than an inanimate thing. In the space within it, lives unfold, memories are stored, etched into. Its walls in an invisible ink only visible to those who inhabit it. Like webs, relationships develop within them, children grow up and attach meaning to objects, love is built and crumbles apart. The happiest moments and heartbreak are both engraved into the walls and a whole history is stored within this space. With an attentive gaze, Joachim Trier invites us to reflect upon these emotions that permeate spaces in which people grow up and inhabit. The story of a family becomes entangled into the story of its home, where past and present communicate with each other.

Trier’s directing pulls us into this state of mind, as it focuses not only on the engrossing performances on the screen, but also on the relationship the bodies of the actors have with the space around them. There is, in a sense, a double focus in this film and its direction - on the emotions of the characters and the emotions of the spaces: the stove that reminds Nora of when she listened to her mother’s work sessions, the markings on the walls that remind Gustav of the time he lost of his daughters’ growth. Everything has a detail that helps us dive into this complex web of relationships within this family, a web that holds grudges and pain but also love.

At times, it’s as if this world of emotions surpasses the boundaries of time, with the story seamlessly jumping back in time to reveal something of this family’s past. This is done in such a way that these moments don’t feel like flashbacks, which at times feel intrusive within narratives, but natural progressions of the emotional study we are experiencing. It makes us think about how events in a faraway past truly have a weight in our present, how we are products of our context. This is why the focus on the space is so important to this film - it’s the context of all the pain and love that reveals itself on screen, and it’s a character of its own, the real central character to this family drama. 

The performances, however, are truly what makes this film, giving flesh to its story. With simplicity, the cast is able to transport in them all the complexity of familial relations. Renate Reinsve embodies the frustration and feeling of emotional paralysis of Nora as she battles with grief and repressed memories awakened by the return of her father. Stellan Skarsgård helps us sympathise with a father haunted by both regret and the passage of time lost with his daughters. And Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas is a true break-out as the true emotional support beam in this fragile home. Even Elle Fanning shines in the shorter screen time she has as the outsider who helps this family look at itself in a different way. 

All in all, this is a film in which everything works as emotional gears to create a cathartic experience that helps us think about our own family and on the structure of “family” itself. It’s difficult to go through it without identifying oneself in one aspect or the other, or without shedding a tear in one moment or the other - but also without laughing at some point. Sentimental Value is true to its name. It’s a film of people, objects and spaces, all interacting with each other, making us observe the emotions that are at play in a way that maybe we wouldn’t otherwise - and isn’t that the purpose of art? Through the story of one family and the examination of each detail in it like strings of a spiderweb, this film becomes a journey that holds something meaningful for everyone willing to be captured within it. 

Movie distributor: ALAMBIQUE

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Thanks to: ALAMBIQUE