Taking the form of a loosely-linked succession of comic tableaux with a strain of humour that’s as dry as a salt mine, the opening 30 minutes of Roy Andersson’s You, The Living hint that you may be about to witness the most hilarious film ever made. An over-emotional woman dumps her boyfriend on a park bench only to be quickly coaxed back with the promise of some roast veal; an elderly man doesn’t realise that his dog has been tangled-up in its leash; a tuba player is so immersed in song that he can’t hear his wife screaming. Effortlessly locating moments of the sublime from the agonising cesspit of existence, it’s like some silent-era sketch show that’s been mysteriously retrieved from the doldrums of the earth.
But, just as we’re about to hit the point where our throat muscles collapse with laughter, the jokes dissipate and the film melds into something subtler and more moody, embracing an altogether more sombre tone to tell its tiny tales of loss, of yearning, of sorrow, of alienation and of pain.
Thematically, it’s a sequel of sorts to the director’s darker 2002 film Songs from the Second Floor, likewise extracting and scrutinising the perverse and ridiculous moments that swim just beneath the surface of life. Working with a fixed camera and a mise-en-scène that seems to be in thrall to the colour beige, Andersson – an ad-man by trade – generally leaves it to dramatic inertia to send feelings leaping from the screen.
Tonally, though, it’s a difficult film to pigeonhole; a matter that ends up being one of its key strengths and weaknesses. Andersson urges us to swallow the comic and the tragic in every mouthful, and though he more often than not gets the flavours just right, there are cases that leave a strange, acrid taste in the mouth.
Still, fans of Aki Kaurismäki’s ultra-deadpan composition and pokerfaced dialogue delivery will find much to admire. For those who don’t really care for Nordic wit, you are urged to make it through to the final shot, which is one of the most beautiful and enigmatic in recent cinema.
