On the film...
Sentimental Value as a film is, in fact, frustrating—a step backward in Joachim Trier's career, which, in search of something profound that dialogues with his body of work (which until then had a genuine authorial voice), ends up falling flat. I say this because of its superficiality, the accumulation of themes coupled with a narrative that can't even decide whether it wants to be contemplative or driven by, well, action.
It's like watching Ingmar Bergman's Persona (1966), but without Bergman's dialogue, without the distinctive quality that any Bergman story possesses. And if you remove the authorial voice from Bergman's transcendental cinema, what remains? A story without a soul. That is why we study the importance of authorial voice in cinema as a whole—so that stories don't fall into the monotony of everyday life, so that they have a life beyond the filming. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fiction.
But why am I not writing a critique of Sentimental Value? Because I couldn't even value the film as a work; it lacks content even to be criticized. It's not a film I intend to bring to C&C. Here we have a feature that flirts with everything: family drama, war drama, trauma, and in the end, it empties itself. It's always one step forward, two steps back. It's like reliving your life, but you don't know it's you; therefore, those experiences are not important to you.
And it pains me to say this about one of my favorite contemporary directors, who knows very well how to make an artsy film, as he did in the Oslo Trilogy. But here, it seems Trier doesn't even know what the film's theme is. There are loose ends, comings and goings, and when we stop to analyze the film coldly, we don't even know what happened.
Nevertheless, I must praise Trier's narrative immaturity, which, let's face it, is normal. Fluctuations are part of any professional career. But I praise it because it gave voice to his actors, allowing them to grow immensely. Elle Fanning, when needed, exudes passion; it truly seems the actress is confident in those metalinguistic projects. Renate, on the other hand, is always excellent. She is the soul of the film, carrying the agony and the emotional flirtations of the script with a fierce, violent strength. And finally, Skarsgård is a cold being, but one who possesses love.
So you, reader, must be wondering: if this isn't a critique, what is this text?
Films and Modernity
The Regression of Naturalism
On Poetic License and Realism
When we talk about realism in cinema, we base it on films that deal with human relationships, with right and wrong. For realism to function as fiction, it requires a narrative arc, a poetic license. This license is a way of portraying feeling, and feeling as a narrative resource is a crucial detail. If we love in cinema, we love deeply; if we hate, we hate profoundly; if we feel fear, we create a genre: fiction demands that reality take on an unreal form. This poetic license is the narrative engine. If a film seeks realism, it must give it poetry. It is like a book; if a book becomes monotonous, no one will read it. A film is a work with the director as its author; therefore, it is up to him to understand the narrative's rhythm, the metronome, the points of intensity, the cadence. This elevates the film without removing its realistic tone. A film is like tactics in football—a strategic assembly that aims, however, to sound realistic through the unreal.
The Fatigue of Naturalism and the Nostalgia for the New
This leads us to a theme seldom noticed in criticism, born from factors that compose a universe: the timing of actions, prop drinks, clothing—in short, everything that contextualizes and potentiates the action and narrative. Thus, pure reality is a factor of frustration. It is a monochromatic factor, with a paltry narrative. I say this using Sentimental Value as an example: a film without soul, without pain, without charisma. Suddenly, the selfies are annoying because the reality of Sentimental Value is the one we see daily. It becomes tiresome. This fatigue is an injury to the creative "factory" that, seeing the audience's need and desire to see themselves on screen, uses realism and naturalism as sales tools. After all, if the audience wants to see itself, why not do it? Before the intentions of this industry could be noticed, this was already happening. In the 1960s, at Hollywood's peak, the audience asked for realism. But what differentiates that relationship from today's cinema? The portrayal and the novelty. In the 60s, identifying with a character, seeing oneself portrayed on the biggest screens was something new, and this novelty demanded a market to propel it, thereby incentivizing creativity. Therefore, Hollywood's peak was both different and the same. It had unique characteristics, an innovative vision, while the current one merely recycles past eras.
The Underestimation of the Audience and the Industry of Confirmation
When we see Netflix on screen, it seems they are testing our seriousness, our capacity to absorb factors that, in theory, do not exist. References like these derail the "north" of the narrative immersion relationship. They are sanity tests; it is uncomfortable for someone to appeal to familiar figures to force a genuine connection between the audience and the film. The portrayed reality is far more interesting when it challenges us to understand that universe. Underestimating the audience is a true portrait not only of what today's cinema audience wants to see but also of the artists' ability to produce works that escape cheap dopamine, the "Marvel" scenes with pauses for the audience to cheer. In the end, the spectator is seeking brief satisfaction. People no longer go to the cinema in search of novelty, but of confirmation. This confirmation emerged in the 2000s based on theories and fan forums but gained strength with the superhero industry. Its success created a narrative mold where affirmation—the one that generates dopamine and fuels future theories—ultimately transforms cinema into a kind of dependent medication: the audience uses this medicine, feels relief, avoids frustration, and returns for the next film, which will repeat the formula. Thus, frustration is not as positive (nor as negative) a reaction as they think.
The Self-Destructive Industry and the Artist's Expiration Date
Amidst all this, we have a reflection on the stagnation of cinema as an industry and a market tool. Directors are not just "making films" but seeking survival in a market that spins incessantly, with no defined role or security. The market sees itself as a self-destructive industry that, nonetheless, renews itself. The point is that the studio-artist-finance relationship is much more about feeding a passive yet famished audience than necessarily giving voice to artists. The artist's individual survival ends up becoming a real war with no guarantees, honor, or creativity: the industry is increasingly cruel. Works like The Substance show this malicious side for an actress, for a filmmaker. It is like an abusive relationship. A living example is Clint Eastwood. He has been in the industry for decades, lived incredible stories, but the industry has forgotten him. Eastwood, reacting, accepted it. His films are no longer awarded, his name has been forgotten in relation to newcomers, but he, at 90, keeps making films. The industry's ostracism predicts a fantastical fall of the artist; it produces a creative prejudice that artists become dated. From this perspective, funding and the assessment of potential works become increasingly superficial, where the film ceases to be the focus. Do you realize how sad it is to see the degradation of an industry? Of a retrograde thought where the artist has an expiration date? Suddenly, Nicole Kidman went from a sex symbol to maternal roles; the industry attacks more than time does. Roles like Anthony Hopkins' in The Father demonstrate that excellence in the current industry is only achieved through appeal; the artist must buy into a narrative that rarely matches reality, therefore submitting not only to the sale of a "pre-chewed" idea of reality but also to the humiliation of being seen by the public as deserving of something.
Criticism, Manipulation, and the Absence of the Avant-Garde
This leads us to another issue: criticism. It plays a fundamental role in turning the aggressive narrative into making the artist a victim. Careers like those of the French Nouvelle Vague are scarce because, through the communication channels that dictate a critic's power and financial potential, there is even an abuse of power. That is, not even criticism is reliable. We see this in cases like Green Book (2018). The film arrived as a political film narrative that quickly won public favor, initiating the narrative of a film that speaks much more than it reflects reality. On the contrary, voices from the Black community addressed the film as a feature that inferiorized the image of Black people in the USA while glorifying the "goodness" of the white man.
But how does this relate to the beginning of the text? A film's reality is often not what it portrays. Diversity, marketing, and the industry shape what the reality of a film actually is, how it sells itself, and how the audience and critics are seen as inferior figures in the sales scheme. It is the industry's manipulation, the latent power of those who manipulate narratives. Sentimental Value sold itself as a film worthy of Cannes but which, in reality, does not even know what to say. This happened due to the production's pedigree, with big names like MK2 Productions, which, in France, has enormous appeal. Thus, the product made for the French won a French festival. The narrative is what dictates the current industry, and this is degrading. We no longer have Godards and Glauber Ruchas to frontally question how starved for attention this industry is. They are narratives about loving cinema, but never for those who love and make cinema... Finally, where is the avant-garde? The essence of a movement has always been dissatisfaction led by leaders who sought a narrative above politics, a tool that sees the artist as a true worker, something that values art and, therefore, makes the freedom to exercise a profession a right. In conclusion, sooner or later the industry will dismantle itself, the audience will tire, there will be a full stop, and in that case, we will finally have the new generation!
If you wanna help C&C, buy from our amazon link:
Experience the vibrant, bittersweet, and profoundly authentic journey of modern adulthood with "The Worst Person in the World," the Oscar-nominated masterpiece from director Joachim Trier. This stunning film follows Julie, a young woman in Oslo navigating love, career, and her own evolving identity across a series of pivotal chapters in her life. With its sharp, intelligent screenplay, radiant performances—especially Renate Reinsve’s award-winning turn—and a mix of whimsical fantasy and raw emotional truth, this is a defining cinematic portrait of a generation. Owning the DVD means having unlimited access to this modern classic—a film that celebrates the beautiful mess of self-discovery, perfect for repeat viewings to savor every nuanced detail and special feature. Don't just watch a movie; own a piece of contemporary film genius. Click the link to secure your copy of "The Worst Person in the World" on DVD today!
Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through these links, we may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.
Links provided by Amazon
#awardseason #oscar #filmfestival #movies #cinephiles
Post a Comment